The Wammy's House Boys
by TheWammy'sHouseReject
Summary: Suicide, rape, murder, death...these are the kinds of things a child should never have to worry about. But for Beyond, A, Matt, Mello, and Near, this is their harsh reality. Nobody said growing up would be easy...but it should never have to be this hard.
1. Rue Ryuuzaki

**Welcome to _The Wammy's House Boys. _Notice the _M _rating. There will be heavy violence, gore, swearing, dark themes, and sexual content. There will be homosexuality, bisexuality, heterosexuality, yandere-ness, tsundere-ness, and pretty much any other romantic complication you can think up. Some of the pairings will be as follows: BB/L, Matt/Mello, Near/Mello, Mello/Linda, Mello/Lidner…and probably some others that I'm forgetting. Many of my views on homosexuality and theology will be here as well. IF ANY OF THE ABOVE OFFENDS YOU, please turn back now and don't flame me ;).**

**Whew! Now that that's over with, I can finally start the story! Without further ado, I give you _The Wammy's House Boys!_**

I will never forget that day.

_Blood…hatred…sorrow…anger…_

...No, no matter how long I live; no amount of time will dull the images that have been burned so thoroughly into my memory. The day I saw my mother die.

Ah, but I'm getting ahead of myself, aren't I? Here I am, spoiling the best part of the story, without even performing the basic courtesy of introducing myself.

My name is-or rather, _was- _Rue Ryuuzaki, though most of you will probably know me better as Beyond Birthday, the serial killer behind the infamous LA BB Murder Cases.

Here I go, getting ahead of myself again. I'd best get on with the story before I bore you all to death before I even remember what I ought to be telling you.

As I said, I was born Rue Ryuuzaki, to a beautiful Japanese woman by the name of Kotone Ryuuzaki. She had deep blue eyes and long, shiny black hair that was always soft to touch. She raised me alone- my father had left us.

Now, before any of you go getting the wrong idea, let me assure you right here that my mother and father were very much in love with each other, and I only ever heard my mother speak kind words about him. They had not separated because they wanted to at all- on the contrary; they were forced to separate against their will.

Now, I did not have ordinary parents, anymore than I had an ordinary childhood. For starters, my eyes, as most know, are blood red- the eyes of a Shinigami.

_My father's eyes..._

_She said to be proud of them…that they were nothing to be ashamed of…_

If you are reading this, I have no doubt that you already know that there is a law in the Shinigami world banning Shinigami from engaging in sexual relations- either with humans, or with one another. To do so would result in execution of behalf of the guilty Shinigami. My father was well aware of this, but he threw all caution to the wind when he fell in love with my mother, and she with him.

Now, I know that you're thinking: Shinigami are ugly, vile creatures. How could anyone love something like that?" the answer to that, my friends, is simple: love is blind. If you truly, deeply love someone, then it doesn't matter what they look like. That certainly holds true in this case.

_Love…to have the one you love… love you back…I wonder what that feels like?_

__From this point onward, I must ask the reader to kindly forgive any lapses in my storytelling, as my memory is less than perfect at the moment.

Their meeting was a highly unorthodox one, to say the very least. My father, the Shinigami known as Rue, was stalking my mother with the intent to kill her for her lifespan. But, as he was reaching for his notebook, it fell from his grasp and hit the ground with a loud _thump! _

My mother turned around and picked the notebook up. She was instantly able to see the hideous creature before her. But she was not afraid. No, quite the opposite. She was friendly, even playful, as if it were no surprise that a God of Death was looking her right in the eyes.

Embarrassed, my father offered to take the notebook back and forget that the whole thing had ever happened. My mother immediately refused, much to his chagrin. So, he was forced to follow her as she went about her day-to-day life. She never used the notebook; in fact, she was more than willing to let Rue use it to stay alive. Needless to say, he was interested in this human. She was pretty, smart, and unafraid of him.

It didn't take him long to fall in love with her. It took a little longer, however, for my mother to reciprocate the feelings.

And that's when it happened. They only sinned together once-one night which I can only guess was filled with passion and purest ecstasy. But once was more than enough. My father was killed for his so-called crime. And, two months later, my mother discovered that she was pregnant.

She never married. She never even dated another man. Her family scorned her, and relatives constantly enquired about the identity of the father of her child. To escape this, she moved away from Japan, to a quiet, small town in England.

From the very day I was born, she made no secret to me about who my father was, and I thought nothing of it. I thought it was normal. Or, at the very least, I didn't think it was wrong. Only that mother said I mustn't tell anyone about it.

_I was a good boy…I listened to my mommy…_

During this time, we had a neighbor who was prone to random fits of rage and paranoia. I'm afraid that I can no longer remember his name. Every time I passed his house, he pointed and called me the Devil's child, devil boy.

I told my mother about this, and she became frightened, wondering if he knew her secret. Despite this, he took no action against us, and life went on as usual until my fifth birthday.

That day…the day that I will never forget…

I was playing in my room with my toys, as small children do. Then, I heard pounding. The front door opened. Raised voices.

An earth-shattering, blood-curdling scream. I jumped up and ran in to see what was the matter. The screams continued, rising in pitch and volume.

I found my mother and the neighbor in the kitchen. My mother was covered in blood, the neighbor stabbing her through continuously with a knife.

"Take _this, _you bitch!" he spat. "You demon whore! You _slut!"_

"Mommy, no!" I screamed. The man looked at me, a maniacal gleam in his eyes.

"Watch this, devil boy," he said, smiling wickedly. I was frozen in abject fear, and the most primal terror.

I don't…wanna die…please, don't kill me! I don't wanna die!

"Watch as your whore of a mother dies. She'll go to Hell, where she'll whore for Satan for all _eternity!"_

He cackled. He was truly mad.

"You're _next, _devil boy!"

"NO!" I shrieked. He came up to me with the blood-soaked butcher knife. He got me, once, through the right forearm. To this day, I have a deep scar there, a painless reminder of a past full of heartache.

I don't know how I did it. I'm not even sure what I _did. _But, somehow, I got the knife away from the man. I turned it around, cutting my own hands in the process. Then, I stabbed my attacker.

Once…

…Twice…

…Seven times.

Blood dripped from the knife.

My hands.

His body.

It pooled onto the white tile floor, staining my shirt, tainting the wooden cabinets as it sprayed everywhere.

When both grownups were completely lifeless before me, I dropped the knife, suddenly aware of what I had done. I fell to the floor and screamed, crying tears that seemed to flow without end.

Evidently, someone had heard the screams and called the police. But they were too late to save my mother.

Too late to save me. I was broken beyond repair. Broken beyond repair on my own birthday. My cake had never been put in the oven. The decorations still hung around the house.

The police took me to a hospital. I stayed there for an indeterminate period of time in a nearly comatose state. Eventually, I don't know when, I began to emerge. The police asked me what happened. I told them, with many tears and much hysterics, that the man had killed my mother, and I had killed him in order to protect myself.

Two elderly men were conversing with a doctor, who seemed happy. To this day, I do not know the cause of that smile.

One of the men approached me.

He called himself Roger.

He asked me many pointless questions I cannot be bothered to recall.

He talked to the other man.

He called him Quillsh.

He told me to call him Watari.

I was taken to a manor house, where some other children were playing in the sunlit grounds, or else reading in the shade of the oak trees. It had a melancholy, but not unpleasant feel to it. I instantly felt at home there.

The old men told me to pick a new name for myself. A code name, I guess you could call it.

_A new name…a new name for a new life…_

Broken _beyond _repair on my own _birthday._

"…Beyond," I said slowly. "Beyond Birthday."

**Wow…writing for Beyond is disturbing…but it's only gonna get worse…anyway, please review!**


	2. Aden Armstrong

**Special thanks to Chiches Zombie for her FANTABULOUS review!**

**NOTE: The minimalistic and somewhat emotionless tone with which this is being written is a deliberate stylistic choice, just so you know ;)  
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Anyone who knows me (and there are very few people who do) will recognize me as A, the first one in line to succeed L.

But that's not important right now. I am here to tell the story that has never been told before.

Mine.

My parents named me Aden Armstrong. We lived a nice, quiet life in a tiny village in Scotland. It seemed like nothing could go wrong. They were kind to me, and to each other. Even thought we really didn't have much money, it seemed like we always had just enough to get by. For the first three or four years of my life were like something out of a fairy tale- they're the best memories I have. Even though they have dimmed with time, I doubt that I will ever truly forget.

Just like how I'll never forget how my parents died.

Now, before I hear anyone chiding me, saying things like "nobody is that perfect," let me assure you that I know that. However, I only have memories of the good times. Unfortunately, what I remember the most is their deaths.

We were going to visit my grandmother, who lived somewhere in America. We boarded the flight, and it took off without any issue. The problem started after we had been in the air for about an hour or so, flying thousands of feet above the ocean. The engine stalled, making frightening clanking noises. Then it stopped completely. Fear prickled inside me like barbed wire. I began to tremble, and passengers began to panic. My mother and father tried to reassure me that it would be alright, though I saw fear in their own eyes as well.

I saw out of the window that we were rapidly losing altitude. My panic escalated. I clung to my mother in a vain attempt to hold my terror at bay.

The captain told us to prepare for a crash. I was terrified. I cried, just as any child would. It was too much. I was sure that I was going to die.

We crashed.

I don't remember much after that. We floated in the water for God only knows how long. Some of the survivors may have been eaten by sharks, but that may very well have been my imagination.

The water was cold. My mother's skin slowly turned blue, and she eventually drowned, along with my father, who tried desperately to save her.

And just like that, I was alone.

My mind was completely blank by the time help arrived. I said nothing as I was brought aboard a rescue helicopter and wrapped in a blanket. Only when a paramedic asked me where my parents were did I cry. This had to be a bad dream…it had to be. There was no way this was real! This had to be a nightmare…yeah, that's what it was. This was just a nightmare, and I would wake up any second…

I didn't, obviously. This was reality, whether or not I chose to accept it.

I was put into foster care after all of my relatives were deemed unworthy to take me in.

I didn't make it easy for the families who took me in. some of them were bad- others were mediocre. But even the best families didn't keep me for long. I would throw violent temper tantrums whenever they tried to tell me that they loved me, or did anything kind for me at all. They wanted to love me, but I wouldn't let them. I was too afraid to let anyone close to my heart again.

The various therapists I encountered all said that I was brilliant, and a good kid, but I had some issues to work out. Yeah, they could've gotten _that _much information for free. Still, I lived that life for three years, until I was sent to an orphanage called Wammy's House. I stood before two old men and a boy, who seemed older than me.

The men talked to me. They asked me questions. The boy remained silent.

"L? Aren't you going to introduce yourself?"

The dark-haired boy looked up at me with curiosity.

"Hello," he said, offering me a smile. I glared back at him in a way that said; to use a common phrase, _"Don't fuck with me."_

L continued to fix me with that friendly gaze. He got up, walked closer to me, and gave me a hug.

I was taken by surprise. I didn't expect this.

Slowly, surely, I raised my arms and hugged him back. It had been too long since I felt this safe, wanted, and loved. And, for once, I accepted this gesture of affection given to me by a stranger.

"It's okay," he told me. "If you're sad, that's normal. I think you'll find that everyone who lives at Wammy's House has a story to tell, each with their own heartaches and sorrows. You don't need to hide it or be ashamed by it. it will never go away, but it does get better."

I had never heard such wise words spoken. I hugged L tighter.

"Will you let me be your friend?" L asked me. I nodded fervently. Watari smiled at Roger, who smiled back and nodded.

Just like that, I had a new family. And for a while, I was happy.

If only for a while.

**Reviews are loved :D**


	3. Mihael Keehl

**WARNING: this chapter contains semi-graphic shotacon and non-consensual sex. Reader discretion is advised. **

My mother was a glamorous fashion model: tall, blonde haired, and blue-eyed. The very epitome of Aryan perfection. My father was a rough crime boss, with brown hair and eyes, and a craggy, pockmarked face. How they ever wound up together, I will leave to the reader's imagination. To be honest, I don't even know.

My parents, older brother, and I lived in a lavish estate in the German countryside, where we were given pretty much anything a child could ever want. Well, I wouldn't say _everything. _We were largely deprived of the love of our parents. Our mother, though a kind and loving person by nature, was almost always busy with her modeling work, and our father…well, that much should be obvious.

My father tried to tailor my older brother to become his successor in the criminal empire he was building, despite the fact that my brother clearly wanted nothing to do with it. I was largely ignored by him at first, left to be raised by household servants. They were kind, but a servant is not a parent. There just wasn't enough parental attention for little Mihael Keehl.

But when I was about four-and-a-half years old, all that changed.

You see, my father occasionally brought other crime lords to our house in order to curry favor with them and expand his empire. Every one of them always seemed to assume that I was just his cute daughter, because of the rather feminine grace and beauty that I would maintain until an explosion stole it from me shortly before my twentieth birthday. But that, my friends, is a story for another time.

At this point, my father would pointedly inform them that I was, in fact, merely a very effeminate boy. Most of them didn't seem put off in the least. In this, I believe my father saw an opportunity to gain favor and power in the criminal industry.

It started simply enough. My older brother, Johann, came upstairs to where I was playing, and told me that our father needed to talk to me. He looked worried- frightened. Thinking I was in trouble, I went downstairs nervously.

Let's skip the boring details, shall we? Long story short, I was taken to the home of one of my father's…friends, for lack of a better term. I remember his name perfectly, but I won't write it down, because I wouldn't like him to get killed by Kira before I get the chance to see him executed properly.

He led me into his bedroom and told me to turn around and face the wall. I obeyed, the beginnings of anxiety prickling in my stomach. I heard the door close and lock. There was no escaping now.

I was trapped.

He forced me onto the bed; face down in the mattress. It was hard for me to breathe. With ease, he stripped me of my clothing.

I fought against him, clawing at his arms. I covered myself with my hands, ashamed, blushing fiercely.

But he was stronger than I was, and I was soon face down in the mattress again. He bound my hands behind my back with his belt. I heard a click, like a bottle opening. Then, two slick fingers were poked around my backside before beginning to push themselves in.

The space was hard-won, because, being both extremely young as well as a virgin, I was almost impossibly tight down there. I closed my eyes; shaking- I had never felt so violated. The fingers curled and scissored their way deeper inside of me, the first drops of blood leaking from torn skin.

After what seemed like an eternity, the fingers left me- but the worst was yet to come.

There was the unzipping of pants and the rustle of fabric. My heart was pounding against my chest like a caged animal trying to get away.

The man pulled me up and sat me on his lap. I could feel his raging hard-on against my back, and it disgusted me.

"Y'know," the man sneered, "Most cute little boys can't take me all the way. But I think you can do it."

I was trembling violently now. Fear coursed through my veins like poison. The man lifted me. Then, with great relish, shoved me down hard on his cock. I sunk down on it all the way on the first try.

I screamed. He was too huge- he was ripping me in half! I felt him deep within me. It was all just so…_wrong._

Now that I'm older, and, dare I say, _smarter, _I realized that he didn't necessarily have a little boy fetish, and wasn't even necessarily a pedophile. It was more like he had a _pain _fetish- he got some sort of sick, sexual thrill from his bed partners being in almost unendurable agony.

He clamped his hand over my mouth, silencing me. then, he began to move. Oh, great, holy, and eternal God! Words cannot describe my complete and absolute disgust when I first felt that…_thing _move inside of me.

I screamed into his hand as he moved brutally in and out of me. I threw up in my mouth, swallowing it with great revulsion. I'd never tasted anything so vile, not even the cum of the men I serviced.

_Mother, please save me! _I remember thinking, though of course she never came. She was on a month-long modeling tour, and wouldn't return for two more days.

Pain shot through me like electricity. I screamed until my throat was raw, then, knowing it was useless, I gave up and began crying silently, my tears running over that damned, vile hand.

When he came, his hot semen burned the wounds he created. I moaned in anguish, feeling filthy and used.

Finally, he pulled out of me, practically tossing me aside.

"Get used to that, punk," the man told me. "It's about all you're good for."

He returned me to my house the following morning. My face was blank. I moved mechanically, like a zombie.

That was the beginning of my Hell. My father-my own _father- _would whore me out to various crime lords throughout various countries. Sometimes I would go over to their house- sometimes, they would do it in my room. On a few occasions, I even remember sucking off men eleven or twelve times my age in front of my father and Johann. I felt like an animal. They treated me like an animal. I felt sick.

I became almost robotic, enduring every possible kink or disgusting sexual fetish those monsters could dream up. For twelve whole months, I endured the pain, the torture, the ball gags…once, a man beat me with a metal rod before shoving it up my ass. But then, one day, my miracle came. My father was caught.

He almost got away with everything, walking out of the courtroom a free man. But he didn't count on Johann speaking up.

He stood up from his seat, fury carved on every inch of his face.

"If you knew of the disgusting things he's made my brother do, you'd lock this bastard up for the rest of his _life!"_

they talked to me. After some coaxing, I told everything. My father was found guilty. So were many of the men who had used me. But on the day they were to be sentenced, my brother and mother were shot on the way to the courthouse. I was terrified. I screamed. I cried. Nobody cared.

But then, I felt a hand on my shoulder. I looked up. An old man in a nice dress suit looked down at me gravely.

"I'm going to take you somewhere safe," he told me. And he did. To a place called Wammy's House.

I later discovered that L was the one who sent my father to prison, which is why I admire him so much.

Why didn't you hear about this on the news, you ask? The answer is that the media, for some reason or another, hushed it up and forgot about it.

But I never will. For my emotional scars will last far longer than any of the marks that those men left upon me.

**Seriously, I'm scared that I could write something this disturbing…anyway, please review!**


	4. Mail Jeevas

My parents named me Mail Jeevas, but for the first five years of my life I was simply known as 'boy.'

My mother, a brown haired, brown-eyed woman, was a prostitute. My father was a drug dealer, as well as a hopeless addict and alcoholic. They were never married- just living in the same run down old apartment somewhere in Russia and banging each other for the flying hell of it. Not to mention all the little affairs that they had on the side. In fact, if it weren't for the fact that I was my father's mirror image, there would be no way to prove that I was really his son.

Now, I say my father, let me be clear that I use father only for lack of a better term. We may have gotten closer upon our reunion years after our final separation, but I still hesitate to really call him my father. Fathers are the ones who raise you. Fathers are supposed to protect you and teach you. My father never did any of that.

My father, as I may have mentioned before, was a monster. He would come home drunk or high, then beat my mother and me within an inch of our fragile lives. In the rare event that he didn't beat the ever-loving tar out of us, he and my mother would get into shouting matches that lasted for hours on end. In fact, the earliest memory I have is of my parents screaming over some petty thing or other. I'm pretty sure he hit her after that.

The good thing (if you could call it that) was that, as long as my mother was there, she would try and defend me, however halfheartedly, against my father's wrath.

That is, until she left. Not that I blame her- I'd rather take my chances in the Sahara Desert without any water than live with that man. sometimes, though, I feel more than a little bitter about her abandoning me.

One day, she up and disappeared, not leaving a trace. And my father went ballistic. He attacked me, beating me to the point of death. I think, at the realization that I could die, he stopped hitting me and left me, bleeding, on the ground. I shook violently, wondering what I did wrong. He later threatened to kill me if I ever told anyone what he'd done.

I was always afraid to fall asleep, thinking that he would murder me if I did. I think I averaged about two or three hours in a week.

Neither my father nor I ever saw my mother again. He blamed me- saying that I ruined his life, I was a burden, I was too worthless to live… and I believed every word he said.

He never fed me. he didn't clothe me. I was reduced to scavenging for food and clothing in the garbage in subzero weather. I earned the nickname of 'the human raccoon' among other people in my tenement, due to my scavenging habits and the dark rings under my eyes. Everybody knew of my plight. Nobody cared. Again, I can't really blame them- what's one starving, abused child when there're at lease a dozen more living in the neighborhood?

I lived in a bad neighborhood. And I mean, a _really _bad neighborhood. The cops never patrolled. I think they were too scared to. Gunshots rang out with alarming frequency. Children were often killed by their parents in fits of anger, and then dumped in the garbage to be taken away by the end of the week. I remember when I found the body of my best friend Dmitri in the dumpster while trying to find food. I cried.

And then I took his clothes.

Please remember that I did what I had to in order to survive. The clothes I was wearing were threadbare, dirty, and so torn up that it was a miracle they stayed on my body. Dmitri's were a little warmer.

Just a little.

I'd often go into the better part of town, where the conditions were still harsh, but much better than the life I lived. Once, I even found a coat and shoes that someone had tossed carelessly on the sidewalk. I felt like a rich man then-a coat for my shivering body, shoes for my frostbitten feet. It didn't matter that the coat was far too large, or the shoes far to small-I had them, and that was enough. It felt amazing. This is one of the best memories I have…which is rather pathetic, now that I think about it. If you have to resort to fond remembrances of worn out shoes and throwaway coats, then yours is a sad life indeed.

Look at me, waxing all poetic. And my English teacher said I was hopeless.

And there, some people asked about me. Where was I from? Why did I have those bruises on my arms? Heeding my father's warning, I never told them, instead walking onward, peering into houses and buildings to get a glimpse of a life at least a little better than my own. Often, I'd go into the church to speak to the priest. They would give me food, and try to coax details of my life out of me, though, of course, I'd never tell.

Sometimes, the priest would try to talk me out of going back to my home. To stay there, or go to the police station, at least. But, no matter what he or anyone else said, I always returned to my father. He was the only family I had- the only life I knew.

So, I guess what he did later was entirely my fault.

One of my clearest memories was one that happened right after my father had beaten me again, then passed out in a drug-induced haze. After laying unconscious for an hour or so, I hobbled away towards that sanctuary, that church that had become my home.

"Father," I said, with that child like, endearing curiosity unique to the young and naïve (though I was far from naïve at this point), "is God real?"

The priest looked at me like one might look at a crazy person.

"My dear boy, why do you even ask such a thing?"

"I was just wondering. I mean, bad things happen to people, and he just sort of…watches. Why?"

"God has a plan for all of his creation," the priest responded. I got wide-eyed in wonder.

"Even me?"

"Yes, of course He does. Even for you."

I beamed at him, happiness and hope flooding my being. God had a plan for me. God _did _care.

The look of pure joy on my face brought a smile to his tired lips as he ruffled my hair.

He slipped something into my hand. A red rosary.

"For me?" I asked. The priest nodded.

"So you will always be reminded of God's love for you."

I hugged the treasure to my chest as I headed home.

My happiness was short-lived, however. My father grabbed me roughly by the wrist as soon as I opened the door. My rosary, the symbol of my hope, was sent clattering to the floor. I guess I should just be glad _he _didn't find it. My father glared at me. I could smell the alcohol on him. And he was _furious._

Things happened so quickly that I can scarcely keep track of the memories that to this very day haunt the deepest corners of my mind.

(Ha. Look ma, I can write prose!)

He slammed me against the wall repeatedly. He punched me. I could hear my fragile bones crack underneath his unforgiving hand while he gleefully ignored my pleading tears. Then, he got out a pair of knives we kept in the kitchen, a sadistic gleam in his bloodshot eyes.

"Father, don't!" I pleaded.

He stretched my arm out against the wall, and then raised one of the knives up, as steady as he could when he was drunk off his ass.

"Father, please don't!" I shrieked frantically.

The knife came down, stabbing through the heel of my hand.

Screams, horrible, inhuman screams resounded throughout the tiny apartment. Screams of deepest agony, like a person burning in the deepest pits of Hell.

It was only later that I realized that those noises were coming from _me._

He stabbed my other hand through the center of my palm.

I cried until I had no tears.

I screamed until I had no voice.

And he didn't care.

_He didn't care._

I threw up. I begged for release. For death. For _anything. _He punched me across the face, telling me to shut up. That I wasn't even worth the effort it would take to kill me.

After what felt like an eternity (though it was only about ten minutes or so), he pulled out the knives, and I fell to the floor, the side of my face in a pool of my own blood and vomit.

I was almost five years old.

Was this what God had planned for me? To die like an animal, at the hands of this monster?

I heard people break into the apartment. My father yelled. Someone came up to me. It seemed so far away.

I fell unconscious.

I awakened in the intensive care unit of some hospital. A boy, possibly in his early teens, was watching me intently. He called himself L. he said he was working on a case when he heard screaming nearby, and had sent people to investigate.

To make a very long story short, I was put through some weird tests, which seemed to be to assess my intelligence. Then, I was asked if I'd like to go to a place called Wammy's House. I said yes-anything to get away from where I was.

They taught me some English while I was still in the hospital. I was a quick learner, but two months wasn't really a lot of time to learn a new language. Not even for the crazy super-genius that I apparently am.

When I was finally able to leave, I still had an ugly, yellowing black eye which embarrassed me. L looked at it, left for a second, then returned with a pair of orange-tinted goggles. He put them over my face. I went rigid, scared to have anyone touch me.

"There we go. That should hide your eye nicely. By the way," he said, pulling my rosary out of his pocket, "is this yours?"

"Yes!" I said, taking it from him. "Thank you so much!"

We went to Wammy's House. L introduced me to the other children. A girl named Linda, who was drawing in a corner. A boy named Beyond, whose smile showed a pair of too sharp teeth.

But the person who caught my attention was a tiny blonde-haired boy sitting alone in a corner, facing away from the crowd. He glanced at me over his shoulder before looking away again. I went over to him.

"Hi…what's…you're name?" I asked, enunciating carefully. My English was still far from perfect.

He said something in German.

"What?"

"I said …buzz off!" he snapped. "Go…away!"

He seemed to be struggling with English just as much as I was, his thick accent making him almost impossible to understand.

"I…just…wanted…to know…you're name," I said.

"…Mello."

I smiled.

"My name's Mai-um, Matt."

Mello gave me a shy sort of smile.

I pulled my rosary from around my neck, holding it out as an offering.

"Here," I said. "You…can have this…if you want."

Mello cocked his head, blonde hair bouncing with the movement of his head.

"Go ahead," I insisted.

Mello took it, blue eyes sparkling.

"Does…this mean…we're friends?" he asked.

"If you want to be."

Mello's eyes filled with tears. He smiled again, this time wider and more open.

He jumped up and hugged me, crying into my chest.

"…Dankeschön."

I later found out that that meant thank you.

"…I promise…I'll be the best friend ever," Mello said fervently.

I smiled a shaky smile, and hugged him back tightly, ignoring the pain in my bandaged hands.

It wouldn't be the last time that I would hide my pain for Mello's sake.

**And there you have it. The origin of Mello's rosary and Matt's goggles. Please drop a review, and thanks for reading ^.^**


	5. Nate River

**This is the very first chapter I wrote with my brand-new and totally awesome Beta reader Chiches Zombie. It went through three rounds of editing before publishing XD. I hope you enjoy reading it, because I sure as hell enjoyed writing it :D**

While my mother was pregnant with me, the doctor told her that I would not live past birth. He recommended an abortion to prevent any unnecessary complications and danger to my mother's health. She talked it over with my father, and they refused. Needless to day, it caused problems, and my mother ended up bedridden for the last three months of her pregnancy.

And soon, she had a child, born one month premature. A little boy; two pounds, four ounces, with white hair and dark eyes.

Me.

My mother's name was, I believe, Alexis River. My father's name was Michael. They named me Nate. Nate River. We lived in a house about fifty miles away from New York City.

My older sister Martha despised me right away. She said I was a burden, that _her_mother had almost died; that _her_life had been the one inconvenienced. She could go on for hours about how I only provided more strain to our family.

"Daddy always works so hard to take care of us," she would say. "All Nate's doing is forcing Dad to work even harder! It's not fair!"

she shouldn't have acted so self-righteous. She was angry because the money spent on me could no longer go towards the things _she _wanted.

Forgive me if I sound bitter. The memories that are coming to my mind are like corrosive acid to my spirit- killing what is already dead, burning away any traces of my happiness.

I clung almost obsessively to my parents, and was rather demanding when it came to affection. This irritated them to no end, Martha even more so. They became cold, and distant, never giving me any attention if they could help it. Sometimes, I would cry until they acknowledged me. They would, if only with the greatest reluctance, fulfill my deepest wish- to be loved by own damned family. Eventually, they'd just scream at me and tell me to grow up. So, slowly, I shut up. I stopped asking for attention. I stopped asking for anything. I remained silent.

As I began to grow up, my family noticed something…shall we say, _off _about me. For a start, I didn't speak until I was almost three years old. That's when I said my first word:

"Puzzle."

Strange, wouldn't you say? It wasn't 'mommy', 'daddy,' or even 'big sister.' It was puzzle. Those pieces of cardboard that are painted, cut up, and put back together to make an image. The kind I put together ever since I was one. That was my first word. My parents were angry. They sent me to my room. I never quite understood why. To my knowledge, I hadn't done anything wrong. So, understandably, I said nothing. I wanted love, and the only way I seemed to receive anything remotely in the shape of it was when I was silent, however primal the shape was.

I taught myself to read out of the large copy of _Jane Eyre _that we kept on our bookshelf. Then, I shocked my whole family by reading it out loud to them. I must have looked rather comical- such a small boy with such a big book. I had saved that experience just for them. I wanted it to mean something. They didn't seem to care, so I lapsed into silence again.

Martha continued to be abusive with her remarks; _"Freak"_and _"reject"_seeming to be her most popular by far.

One day, around Christmastime, my family and I went to see the Rockefeller Christmas Tree, which was only fifty miles away from where we lived. The trip there was oddly pleasant. Martha seemed happy. I should've known my family wouldn't be that way around me without a good reason.

The lights captivated me, and I smiled. I stared at it for what seemed like hours. But then, when I turned around, my family was gone. No Martha, no mother or father…nobody.

I want to believe that they just left me there on accident, but part of me knows that this can't be the case. If it was, then why didn't they put forth even the slightest effort to try to find me? No picture in the newspaper, no Amber Alert…nothing. They just seemed to have forgotten about me.

I wandered all that bitter cold night, calling for my parents. Treading through snowy streets, I struggled not to cry. It was a miracle no crooks found me, though I ran away from suspicious noises from time to time. I felt like a mouse trapped in a house full of cats. It was also a marvel that I didn't freeze to death out there. If I believed in God, I'd say that he saved me.

I was alone.

I was afraid.

What was I supposed to do?

The sun broke the horizon, like a golden maiden returning to her house. It felt good to bathe in her light again, but it was barely warmer than the night before. I was still freezing, I was still trembling, and I was still alone. Very, very alone.

I passed a shop window. I saw a toy robot resting there. It was one of those old fashioned ones, with the key that you use to wind it up to make it walk across the floor. It was beautiful in my eyes, and I wanted desperately to have it for my own.

"Do you like that robot?"

I turned around. An old man with graying hair, dressed in a nice suit, gave me a look. A knowing, concerned look. Like he actually cared about me.

I nodded.

"Where are your parents?"

I shook my head.

"I don't know."

"Here. Come with me."

I shook my head.

"Uh-uh," I said. "I'm not supposed to go anywhere with strangers."

"Trust me," the man said, kindly. And I did.

He led me to a nice hotel room. A black haired boy was sitting there, reviewing some official-looking papers.

"Watari, who is this?" he asked.

"My name's Nate," I said. "My family left me all alone."

Despite how much I wanted to believe otherwise, I was right. they had abandoned me.

The boy furrowed his brow, in an expression that was part confusion, part anger.

"Watari, I'd appreciate it if you'd go and look into this matter further," he said. "I'll stay here with the boy."

"Alright. I'll be going, L."

L got up and headed to a cabinet.

He had a slouch, and wore a plain white shirt and old blue jeans. He couldn't have been more that thirteen, maybe fourteen years old. He made some hot cocoa and brought me something in a small box.

A puzzle.

"Would you mind doing this for me?"

L watched me intently as I put it together.

"You're very good at this, Nate."

I nodded.

"I bet your parents told you that you were good at this, didn't they?"

Tears built up in my eyes. I began to cry.

"Do you need a hug?" L asked, holding his arms out in a welcoming gesture.

I ran around the coffee table between us and threw myself into his arms.

It would be years before I could finally cry like that again. To trust…really trust another human being.

When Watari returned, he handed something to L, and they held a quick, whispered conversation. Watari nodded.

"Nate, we're going to take you somewhere where you can have a home, okay?" L asked me.

I nodded.

L handed me the package. It was the robot I had admired in that shop window.

But because I was afraid of them not loving me, of them leaving me just as my supposed "family" had, I said nothing.

At this new home, I saw a room full of toys. I was at home there, amongst the building blocks and stuffed animals. I loved losing myself in them, and no one bothered to pull me away. I belonged within the make believe land of riddles, puzzles, and toys. It was a fantasy every child dreamed of and I was allowed to live in it.

Later that same day, I saw a blonde boy playing a video game alongside another boy with shaggy, bright red hair. The redhead looked over and saw me. Tugging on the blonde's sleeve, he paused the game and dragged him over to me.

"Hey, I'm Matt," the red haired boy said.

I said nothing.

"I'm Mello," the blonde said, smiling and waving at me.

I stayed silent.

Mello scowled.

"What? Can't you talk?" he demanded. He had a trace of a German accent.

"Mello, please be nice to him," Matt pleaded. Russian. They seemed to be friends, despite the obvious dissonance in their temperaments. I immediately envied them.

Mello turned on his heel and stalked away. Matt offered me one last smile before following, leaving me to my own devises. Needless to say, all alone.

"…I'm Near," I said quietly, to myself.

I wanted them to like me, but…I was scared…that they'd leave me, too.

So, I said nothing.

**Reviews are always welcome here ^.^**


	6. Friends Forever

**Okay, here's how things are going to work from now on. At the beginning of each chapter, I'll put in a verse or two of a song that fits the theme of the chapter after the Author's Note. Then, the chapter (obviously). Then, finally, more Author's Notes. There, now I'm done.**

_If you just believe in me,  
>I will Love you endlessly.<br>Take my hand.  
>Take me into your Heart.<br>I'll be there forever, baby.  
>I won't let go.<br>I'll never let go._

_Anytime you need a friend,  
>I will be here.<br>You'll never be alone again,  
>so don't you fear.<br>Even if your miles away,  
>I'm by your side.<br>So don't you ever be lonely._

_-__**Anytime You Need a Friend (Mariah Carey)**_

(BEYOND'S POV)

I looked over at A, who had his face buried in a book.

We were some of the only children who hadn't gone outside to play. I welcomed this new silence. I felt like I wanted to say something to him but at the same time I was afraid to do so. He seemed so cold and distant that I couldn't bring myself to do it. It was strange, this newfound shyness that had overcome me. I wasn't normally like this.

"Hey! Cut it out!"

"Leave us alone!"

I looked over to where the voices came from. A couple of older kids were picking on Matt and Mello. One had Matt by the hair, while the other held Mello by his arms, holding him back from attacking the other. Matt struggled to get away, the blonde fighting to inflict damage on the other boys.

I glared. This wasn't right at all. I detested bullies.

"Let's see if that red hair of yours is real." The older boy, whose letter was V, pulled back hard on Matt's hair, making him cry out in pain. I glared, my eyes flashing a bloody crimson. I then stood up and walked over to them, hatred and rage bubbling up inside me, an ancient urge to kill seizing me.

That killer instinct that bled into my eyes…

"Stop it right now," I growled, grabbing V by his own hair.

He let go of Matt immediately.

"Wh-what the hell are you doing?" V stammered, all his bluster and bravado gone, replaced with anxiety and fear. I had built up a reputation by that point, one that said, _"I absolutely dare you to fuck with me." _I felt like laughing at the little worm, but instead threw him against the nearest wall. He crumpled to the floor in a sorry heap. Quickly, I grabbed the guy who had Mello, the boy who went by Chris.

I was furious. Simply furious. I punched him across the face.

"Beyond, stop it!" A caught a hold of my wrist, twisting it slightly, as a warning. I turned around. A's eyes were narrowed, but not unkind. I saw his name and his lifespan floating above his head. It danced around ever so slightly, those numbers that played in my head day and night. Not like I had an obsession with them, but… Then again, maybe I did. He was my friend. And my only friend, at that. And sadly enough, he wouldn't live very long…

Not long at all…

"Let him go, B. It's not worth hurting him."

I let Chris go, closing my eyes.

"I'm sorry, A. I'll- I'll work on the self-control next time. I'm sorry…" I felt my eyes getting watery. I don't know why, but I felt bad that I had upset him. I also felt a strange sort of respect for him.

Not that it would last…

"Are you okay, Mello? Matt?"

"Yeah," Mello said, scowling. "I didn't need your help."

Such a stubborn boy…

"…Thanks for the help," Matt said quietly. "I appreciate it."

I ruffled Matt's hair, smiling. "It wasn't a problem at all," and turned on my heel to walk off with my friend, my friend who had a metaphorical cancer. One that manifested itself in the numbers that told me just how soon he would be leaving this world.

Looking back, maybe that was a good thing. He'd be taken out of this wretched world before it had a chance to corrupt him.

(MELLO'S POV)

Dammit, why did Beyond have to act like a hero? I scowled as the rest of the children were herded back into the playroom. Near sat right back down to his puzzle, completely at peace with the world. I envied him for that. He seemed so much happier than I was, or at least, content.

I hated him for that. He always seemed so detached- like he didn't have to live in reality. And that made me hate him worse. He had his own little fantasy world, full of games and puzzles, where he could get away from reality. I had no such world- I wasn't that weak. Or maybe I just didn't deserve a world of my own.

I looked away from him, unable to bear the sight of him any longer. It disgusted me.

We were ushered in to eat dinner a few hours later. I stayed close to Matt. He stayed close to me. We were sort of an item now. Matt and Mello. Mello and Matt. Nobody referred to one of us without the other.

He was my lifeline. Like a security blanket, he made me feel warm and safe. I was his guardian. I protected him from anything that might hurt him.

But I failed. I failed to protect him. I felt dirty. Disgusting. I had broken my promise.

"Matt…I'm sorry."

Matt smiled at me.

"It's okay."

"No, it's not. I tried to keep you safe, and I failed. I'm sorry."

"No…don't worry about it. I still like you."

He took hold of my hand. He leaned his head against my shoulder, as if to prove his faith in me. I wrapped my other hand around his, returning the sentiment, and we headed on toward the dining room.

(MATT'S POV)

I woke up that night to Mello whimpering in the bed beside me, wrestling with a nightmare. I hated it when he was like this.

"Mello, wake up!" I shouted. "C'mon, wake up!" Mello jerked awake, looking around in a daze. He rubbed his eyes, letting out a whine.

"Matt? Matt, I'm scared," he said, his tears glistening in the moonbeam that fell on his face.

"What scared you?" I asked. I must have said it too loudly, because he jumped. "…Sorry," I said, quieter this time.

"I… had a nightmare," Mello said. His voice was shaky.

"Well, you can sleep in my bed for tonight," I suggested. "I've got enough space."

Mello thought on this, then clicked on his bedside lamp. I shielded my eyes from the bright light, almost glaring. Mello crawled in next to me. I got out of bed, turned off the lamp, and got back in beside him. We were face to face with each other. Mello's breath smelled like chocolate and peppermint. It was hard to keep the smile off my face at that. Mello's big, blue eyes stared back at me. They had that endearing look to them, as children's eyes often do. But, they also had something different about them that children normally didn't have. They held no innocence, instead showing fear and frustration, which manifested themselves in his tears.

I reached forward and wiped them away.

I didn't know why at the time, but I wanted to see Mello happy. He hardly ever smiled, but to see him this upset always made my skin crawl.

"Please don't cry, Mel," I told him. "Don't worry. I'll protect you."

"I'm supposed to protect you," Mello whined. "Not the other way around. That's what I told you when we met, remember? I promised you." His voice ever so slightly broke off at the end. It was hard to see him like that, so desperately fighting with something inside of himself…just to put me at ease.

"Don't worry about it. We'll protect each other. You don't have to do it all on your own."

Mello sniffled. I gave him a quick, awkward hug.

"Just…don't shut yourself up, Mel, okay? It gets really lonely if you do that."

_I should know, _I thought bitterly.

"I'll be here, Mel, don't worry. I won't ever leave you, as long as you promise to never leave me."

"Thank you, Matt," he said fervently. "I promise I'll always stay with you. I won't let anyone get between us. Ever."

"I'd like that, Mel," I said, snuggling closer to him. We quickly fell asleep, our faces so close that our noses almost touched.

_Don't ever go away, _I thought. _Please don't ever leave me._

I woke up one other time that night. Mello was holding my hand again.

**There you have it! I hope it was worthwhile. Thanks to my Beta, as always :D Now, I'm gonna make a bunny!**

**(\ /) **

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**Leave a review for the bunny?**


	7. The Perfect Friendship

**Hello there! Ugh…I literally spent all freaking NIGHT working on this chapter, trying to get it just right. I must have read through it a dozen times XD. My beta did a lot of the writing for this chap, too, and I'm happy about how it turned out :D**

_And maybe when the night is dead, I'll crawl into my bed  
>Staring at these 4 walls again<br>I'll try to think about the last time, I had a good time  
>Everyone's got somewhere to go<br>And they're gonna leave me here on my own and here it goes_

_I'm just a kid and life is a nightmare_  
><em>I'm just a kid, I know that it's not fair<em>  
><em>Nobody cares, cause I'm alone and the world is<em>  
><em>Having more fun than me<em>

_What the fuck is wrong with me?_  
><em>Don't fit in with anybody<em>  
><em>How did this happen to me?<em>  
><em>Wide awake I'm bored and I can't fall asleep<em>  
><em>And every night is the worst night ever<em>

_**Simple Plan, 'I'm Just a Kid' (Verse 2)**_

(NEAR'S POV)

Classes at Wammy's House were hard enough to make a college student cringe. They put us through the wringer, pushing our minds to the limit, measuring our capacity. We studied dynamical systems classes, advanced calculus that would put the AP classes to shame, number theories, and especially probability and statistics. Other classes were as diverse as physics, psychology, and ranged from behavioral analysis to human anatomy. I can't tell you how many times kids became physically sick over the stress of it all. I was never ailed by any of it, however. Actually, I had a knack for it all. Rather, I was… _fond _of it. I was the only one who found it that way, though. Probably because learning was almost as freeing as playing with my toys. Almost.

However, as I mentioned moments ago, I was a rarity. Some of the students were ruthlessly competitive, fighting tooth and nail against one another in an attempt to be the best. Mello, in particular, was very fond of showing off. He would ace a test in differential equations and boast about it to everybody. He tried to shove it my face (quite literally), but found that I had made an even better score than him. He was enraged, shouting obscenities. _'How did he get a better grade than __**me? **__I made a __**perfect **__score!' _He shouted. _'Extra credit, Mello,' _the teacher had informed him, _'Near was able to solve every equation and gave a reasonable explanation as to __**why **__he was correct. It's all about reasoning, Mello, not if you got any of it right. You could've just been lucky for all I kn-' _But he had stormed out by then. Matt jumped up and followed at his heel. I watched them leave with a sad look. Mello was… okay. He was a decent fellow who I had considered… an acquaintance of mine, if not a friend.

I had no taste for any of it, though. I simply wanted to learn. My mind tended to wander off at times, but, for the most part, I did as I was told. I listened, took notes, and tried to be a good student. Or, as good a student as a four-year-old child could be, anyway.

I was placed in the same classroom as Matt and Mello, stuck in the seat behind them. I'd occasionally stop and observe them, watching the near-silent interactions between them with something resembling envy.

Matt pulled lightly at Mello's earlobe, which Mello would return with a playful poke. Matt would whisper something so funny that Mello would giggle about helplessly until the teacher told them to be quiet. It was like that every day. _Every single day _I had to watch them get along so perfectly. _Every single day _I looked on at them with envy. _Every single day _my heart yearned to join them. I was only a small boy. A child. I didn't want to be alone. I wanted friends. I wanted to joke with them, to laugh with them. I wanted a friend like Mello had Matt, like Matt had Mello. I wanted someone to talk to like A had B and B had A. It wasn't fair. It wasn't fair at all. But, as I had been my _entire _four years of existence, I was quiet. I was so _painfully _quiet, that every day I could hear my own screams, silently ringing in my ears.

I was only a small boy. A child. What more could a little kid want than a friend?

I felt out of place just watching them. They were so… how should I say it? _Happy. _Yes. They were so completely and utterly happy with each other. They had what I could never have, and I hated them for it. Hate and envy. I shouldn't say it like that, though. They're practically the same word, something I learned from experience.

Mello was working furiously one day, so much so that the pencil he was holding had snapped in his pale hand. He scowled at first, but then he looked at it closer. He tapped Matt on the hand, who looked over in pure boredom, hoping for something interesting to be going on. As soon as Matt saw Mello, he nearly tipped over from his chair with laughter. Mello held the two ends of the pencil up to his neck on opposite sides, making it seem as if it stabbed him through. Matt grinned, and they giggled together until, once again, they were told to be silent.

As soon as class was out, I headed straight to the playroom to lose myself in my make-believe world of puzzles and toys. I didn't want to think about Matt and Mello and their perfect friendship. I didn't want to think about school or classes and how I got a perfect score on my test in quantum physics. I just wanted to forget everything in my toys, my robots, my puppets, and my tarot card castles. I wanted to forget that I longed for a friend.

Besides, it was the only place where a freak like me belonged.

(A'S POV)

Being in a class with Beyond was an interesting experience. He was easily the smartest kid there, but he always seemed distracted.

Like now, instead of listening, he was drawing pictures in his notebook, looking completely content with the world, sitting in his imitation of L's crouch. It was always enough to give me pause- what exactly was there to gain by sitting like that? I'd tried it, but only ever found it extremely uncomfortable. My calves would cramp, my back would ache and I could only imagine how trained L's or Beyond's leg muscles must have been to be able to tolerate it. So, while I sat (normally) beside Beyond (who crouched), I wondered if it ever made him feel odd, standing out in such a way. He never gave the slightest indication that he did, so I said nothing about it. If he was okay with himself then why should I be the one to disturb him?

I sighed, finding the lecture we were being given to be quite dull. Quickly, I sympathized with Beyond's efforts to leave the classroom, at least in his imagination.

It was a huge relief when class was over, and we were free to go outside. Or, in my case, free to go to the library, to lose myself in some book or another, like I always did on days like that. I'd been told it would be good for me, and, so far, they were right. I never felt as lonely while in a make-believe world. And the best part was I didn't have to do any work. Some author already dreamed up the whole universe, then wrote it down with ink and paper for me to enjoy.

I decided on _Pride and Prejudice _for today. I got it out, sat down, and began to read. The real world faded into nothing, and A ceased to exist, for the moment. It was nice, not being. My mind became numb and all I could comprehend were the words on the page and what was going on inside the book. It was nice, not being.

I drifted out of existence, fading away into nothing. I liked that. There was a certain appeal in disappearing, and I suddenly wondered that, if I really _were _to disappear, would anybody really care? Suddenly, my thoughts returned and it was all I could do to stifle a sob. I mean, really. What was there in that wretched, wretched world for me? I was all alone. I didn't even want to be there. I didn't _choose _to be there or the life I had. It wasn't fa- But I shook my head and forced myself to bury my head in the book again.

I was like an ostrich with its head in the sand.

(MATT'S POV)

I never saw myself as a very creative person. I wasn't good at creating fantasylands or fairy tales, and I wasn't one to play make-believe. Instead, I'd turn on a game system, and that would become my escape.

I could be a Pokémon trainer, and become the very best in the world. I could be Donkey Kong or Kirby, and save the world from ultimate evil. But that wasn't all there was to it. What I liked most about playing video games was that I didn't have to be _Mail. _I wasn't the helpless little Russian boy with scars marring his body. I wasn't just another kid trying to make is way in the world. I was someone else. _Any_one else. And that was all that I really cared about.

I wasn't Mail Jeevas. I wasn't Matt. I was a warrior. I could defend myself. I wasn't weak anymore.

I didn't need Mello to protect me from the bullies. I was more than capable of standing up for myself.

I was loved. Everyone I came up to in those games seemed to adore me. The ones who didn't were bad guys, and I had a good time crushing them.

"Matt, you _seriously _need a life," I heard Mello jeer at my side. He was supposed to be studying for the upcoming test that day. However, Let's Poke at Matt's Patience was more fun at the time. I knew he was joking, so, of course, I let a smile break my lips.

"And you, Mello? You're always studying. And I mean _always._ That, or eating chocolate," I mumbled the last part as I jumped on top of a particularly annoying Koopa. Mello sighed dramatically.

"Those are the two best things in the world, Matt. How ignorant you are," he smiled. I smiled, too, but didn't say anything else. I busied myself with nerfing a particular glitch in the game, smiling as I defeated Bowser for the, I don't know, umpteenth time? I turned off the game boy and set it down on the table, looking over at the clock. _Wait… what?_

"Mello, it's four a.m.!" I shouted, pointing at the clock. I knew I had been playing for a few hours, but… I guess that a "few" had turned into "several." I inwardly groaned. Morning classes tomorrow were going to be a pain. Maybe I could get away with sleeping in. I normally didn't eat breakfast anyway. Mello looked up at me as though I was a total idiot. I blinked. "What?"

"Matt, you _**seriously **_need a life," he sighed, "alright. I guess I've studied enough for one night…" He set his text book down and stood, stretching and yawning as he did so. I gaped up at him.

"'Night?' Dude, you mean _day." _I groaned… and groaned. I was _definitely not _looking forward to tomorrow. Mello, however, didn't seem so fazed by it. He just brushed his hair from his face and slid under his cover, clicking off his bed side lamp as he did so. I copied his actions with irritation and shut my eyes. For a few dozen minutes, all I could see was the video game. It was if I was still playing. And, actually, I kind of was. I was replaying the Bowser level all over again, seeing if I had missed anything in the game (even though I knew I didn't). It was slightly annoying after an hour or so. I wanted to sleep… sort of. I let a slight huff and turned over, facing Mello. His breathing was deep and as I shut my eyes, I concentrated on it, hoping that it would help me sleep.

"Ungh… no…. Stop…" I heard Mello moan softly. My eyes fluttered open as his breathing hastened. He flipped over on his back, and tossed his blonde hair around. I was curious about what he was dreaming about, so I just listened and watched. He never told me why or when he was sent to Wammy's, only that he was from Germany and that his dad used to be some big-shot crime boss. "Please… stop it…" His plea was so quiet, a soft, soft whisper, but it stung my heart like a poisonous wasp. It hurt. It hurt to hear him.

"Mel, hey, Mel! C'mon, wake up," I pled with him. He continued to whimper and I became extremely frightened. I quickly regretted letting his dream –nightmare- go on. He didn't deserve to go through whatever he was going through. "No, Mello, wake up!"

His eyes fluttered open.

"Huh…what?"

"You were having a nightmare," I told him.

"Yeah…Sorry…"

He fell asleep again. I snuggled up closer to him. He mumbled something unintelligible, shifting around in his sleep.

He felt so warm…

Eventually, I fell asleep as well, drifting into my own world of nightmares.

D'aww, Matt and Mello is just so freaking CUTE!

**Sorry, my inner fangirl came out to play XD**

**As always, please leave a review :D**


	8. Abattoir

_Oh, well imagine; as I'm pacing the pews in a church corridor,  
>and I can't help but to hear, no I can't help but to hear an exchanging of words.<br>"What a beautiful wedding!, What a beautiful wedding!" says a bridesmaid to a waiter.  
>"Oh yes, but what a shame, what a shame, the poor groom's bride is a whore."<em>

_I chime in with a "Haven't you people ever heard of closing the god damn door?"  
>No, it's much better to face these kinds of things with a sense of poise and rationality.<br>I'd chime in "Haven't you people ever heard of closing the god damn door?"  
>No, it's much better to face these kinds of things with a sense of...<em>

_**-**__**I Write Sins Not Tragedies**__**, **__**Panic! At the Disco**_

(MELLO'S POV)

I was really tired when I got up for class the next day, but I tried not to show it. Matt, on the other hand, practically fell asleep in his cereal. Not that he ever actually _ate_ the cereal…

Okay, so staying up until four wasn't the best idea for a five year old. And, all right, I use the term 'five year old' lightly. We acted more like teenagers, minus the hormones. I swear, some of the older kids needed to tone it down. That, or get sound proof walls. But that was beside the point. I shuddered at the memory. I had vowed to never step foot in the teen dormitory ever again. Shaking the thought, but mostly begging for the last few seconds to be forgotten, I turned to a near catatonic Matt.

"C'mon, Matt, let's get to class," I said, shaking his shoulder.

"Hmm? M'kay."

The halls of Wammy's were beautiful and ornate, which wasn't surprising, considering it used to be a church. I'd already walked through those halls countless times, and I would continue to walk through them for nearly ten years, memorizing each and every detail on the walls. I smiled at the thought of it. Wammy's was home, and a gorgeous one at that, so staying there for the rest of my adolescent years could have been considered a dream to some.

If only the way everyone had _arrived _there was just as pleasant.

Along our way down the spacious halls, we passed a picture of the Virgin Mary with baby Jesus. I then forgot everything I had previously considered important. No, nothing I had just thought was remotely important. I then thought about something that usually only came to mind when I prayed just before sleep: God. I fingered my rosary gently and then looked up at Matt with an epiphany.

"Hey, Matt," I said, "Do you think God cares about us?"

"Hmm?"

"Earth to Matt! I asked you a question! Do you think that God cares about us?"

Matt shrugged.

"Look, I don't know, 'kay?" he said, irritation in his voice. "I guess I used to be sure, but…not so much anymore, really."

I cocked my head. Used to be sure?

"When were you sure?" I asked.

"…"

"Matt?"

"It's none of your business, okay?" Matt snapped, glaring at me.

I took a step back. There was something about that look of pure anger on his face that unnerved me. Matt was usually a very easy-going person, but that… upset me.

"Geez, sorry I asked," I snapped back, smothering my nerves with a snarky demeanor.

Matt sighed.

"I'm sorry." he turned away from me, making a little noise."…I-I just don't know anymore."

I put a hand on his shoulder, and, for a moment, there were no other children in the hallway. It was just he and I. He gave me a teary smile and took hold of my hand. In my peripheral vision, however, how I saw a few teenage boys step out from a near by room. I heard them laugh and say things like 'fags' and 'homos,' to themselves. I glowered.

"What's your problem?" I shouted, whirling around to look at them.

"Oooh, the drama queen's pissed at us," one of them said.

My temper boiled inside me. I screamed and threw myself at him, clawing at his face with my fingernails. He cried like a baby, and in no time, he was begging for someone to help him. Nobody did. And I liked that.

"Mello, that's enough!"

I found myself pulled off him by a very angry Roger.

"What is the matter with you?" he shouted, shaking me.

"He's crazy! _He's crazy_!" the boy shouted, blood running down his face. Claw marks like an animal's littered his terrified expression.

"You are in big trouble young man," Roger growled through gritted teeth, grabbing my arm. "I think it's time you and I had a little talk." My heart pounded with a great and sudden fury. I could feel it exploding in my ears as I glared at the old man holding me.

"Roger, can't you-" Matt began to plea, but Roger cut him off angrily, like this shit was getting to _him_. Like _he_ was the one being mocked for his friendship. I think that was the day my anger for Roger had started growing quickly, like a weed in a lush forest.

"You get to class, Matt."

The red head looked on at us with desperation. "But-"

"Now!"

"Don't yell at him!" I shouted, struggling against his vice-like grip, as I saw Matt close to tears. _Dammit Roger!_, I very nearly cursed the old man. I felt like screaming at him for being so cruel to Matt. He just wanted to help me, but the sightless bastard wouldn't have any of it, not even self-defense on our parts. Adults could be so cruel.

"Be quiet, Mello!"

"What's going on?"

All eyes shot to the left. There stood L, hands hidden deep within his bottomless pockets. My heart jumped. When had he returned?

"Roger, what is the meaning of all this?" Watari asked, standing along side the raven-haired teen who was my attorney of sorts at times like that that defended me and my actions.

"Mello attacked P! I am taking him to my office no-" Roger was quickly cut off, however, and I couldn't help but smirk at the squirming man.

"Did you ask Mello why he behaved as such?" Watari's voice was calm, though you could tell he was completely pissed. He was actually ever so slightly clenching his usually slack jaw. I could see it… so subtly… He was pissed. Watari… Mr. Cool-And-Collected was actually pissed. I let the grin blow up on my face. This should be fun…

L looked at the kid's face, frowning.

"Why don't you go down to the infirmary?" he said, before sending him on his way. The boy whose letter was P slammed his shoulder into mine as he left. I turned to shout an obscenity at him, but L grabbed both my shoulders and knelt down to my height, firmly planting me to the marble floor.

"Mello," he said, taking a deep breath to mask his anger. "Why did you attack P?"

"He called me a fag," I said simply. "He called _us_ fags."

L's eyes narrowed.

"You mean you and Matt," he said.

"Yeah." L ruffled my hair and stood.

"Well," L sighed again, "you and Matt get to class. Watari and I will take care of this. But Mello, you have to promise me that you will refrain from attacking anyone else in the future, alright?"

I nodded, guilt rising up inside me. L had just saved me again. How many times was he going to have to get me out of trouble? How many more times would L further prove that he owns my ass? I was grateful, but… damn it, I didn't want my debt to keep rising. I was five, for Christ's sake, and my credit score was already in the pits.

"Good."

Matt took my hand, and grinned at L, who winked back at us with a knowing smile.

"I'm sorry," I told Matt.

"Nah, s'okay. I was mad, too."

"Then why didn't you say anything?" I asked.

"Because… you always get hurt worse if you fight back." I didn't know it at the time as Matt turned away before I could get a good look at the boy's face, but… there was a deeper meaning to his words. There was something else there that I had no clue about. My friend's words were as deep as an ocean, and I had not a single clue. I smile and followed his lead to class, completely ignorant.

(NEAR'S POV)

I watched as those two walked away, envy welling up inside me again. Why couldn't I go up and talk to them? Why couldn't I just ask to be their friend? Why couldn't I have said something? Was I really such a coward, that I couldn't stand up to a bully?

Then again, anyone who was remotely like me couldn't do a damn thing about what had happened. I had no back bone to speak of, no voice to hear. Everyone would just over look me, the silent sheep. The outcast. The misfit. The reject. The one with no friends. It hurt so bad to think of everything that way. I felt the tears stinging my large, swollen eyes. My lip puckered and I had to use the two-sizes-too-big sleeve of my flannel and pear-tinted pajama top to wipe away the snot and tears. It wasn't fair. It wasn't fair that nobody cared about me like Mello did for Matt or Matt did for Mello. It wasn't fair that nobody worried about me like A did for B and B did for A. I hated being a simple little silent sheep.

I felt like I was being guided to a slaughterhouse where everything inside me would be sliced and diced. I felt like I was being led, roughly and against my will. Whatever will I had to even speak of. And I was letting myself be pulled. There, at the abattoir, I would be cut up into a million pieces, there all of my emotions would be dissected from my body and never returned.

But little Nate River would always be alive to live with that pain.

I hiccuped quietly and walked away. There was no point. Why even bother? If I was being led to that place where I would no longer be allowed to feel, if everything about what I just said was true, then why should I try? If I knew that I was going to have all of my feelings taken away, everything that made Nate _Nate_ stripped away, why should I try?

Because I was sad. Because I was lonely. Because it's better to have loved and lost then to have never loved at all.

"Near," I heard a voice speak up behind me. My head snapped up and I jerked my head around to see L eying me. My eyes were wide and I couldn't move a single muscle. L. L had seen me crying. He had seen me at my most pathetic state. I wanted to stop crying, to revert back to that seemingly emotionless being that everyone thought I was. That, in truth, I was merely _becoming_ at the time. I wanted to pretend like nothing had happened. I wanted to forget I had even cried in the first place. I wanted L to forget I ever cried in the first place. But that only made things worse. The tears tumbled forth like a cookie being crushed in a toddlers hand. They fell and fell and I couldn't see a single thing through them I just kept frantically wiping away at them, hurrying to hide my pain.

And then I felt arms around me.

(B'S POV)

"What's wrong, A?"

A looked up at me with a blank expression.

"It's nothing."

"A." I challenged.

He smiled at me. A blank, cheerless smile. I sat down beside him as the bells from the tower outside sang their melody, their melancholy tone resounding through the whole institution. Too mournful to be wedding bells, they sounded fit for a funeral.

I loved the sound of those bells. They reached into the depths of my soul, into places where no human being could reach. They comforted me late at night, when the howling wind would occasionally coax them to sing. When I cried my bitter tears, the low, sorrowful ringing would sing their bitter tone, and I didn't feel quite so lonely. However, I knew that if those bells ever sung a single note for A, I would hate them with every ounce of my soul humanly possible.

Last night, though, A joined in. He awoke, whether from dream or nightmare, with tears in his eyes. He crawled over to join me in my downhearted state, wrapping arms around me. I didn't return the affection, but accepted the gesture all the same.

Today, however, he hid all emotion from me, and I hated him for it. Did he think I didn't care? Did he think I wasn't his friend? How could he not see how much he meant to me? How much he meant to L?

L…

Lately, I had begun to feel something towards him that was more than what a child should feel toward their idol. I wanted to hold him… to touch him… to… maybe… kiss him?

I knew that these feelings were considered wrong. A boy loving another boy. And not just a boy, but a boy four-almost five- years older than him. It was considered wrong. Indecent. Immoral. Abnormal.

Words like that made me sick. Who was to say what was normal? Who decides the good? Who decides the right? They were merely vague terms that we used to justify our actions. Worthless terms that enslaved us, and, ultimately, destroyed us. No one should have been able to control the things that make a person happy. If loving the same gender hurt absolutely no one, why was it not allowed? Yes, I understood the age factor perfectly, but… gender? I mean, what X and his friends had called Matt and Mello simply for being _friends_ was horrible. It was cruel. It was inhuman. What Matt and Mello had was special and they called it wrong? They wanted _right_?

What the hell was '_right?'_

I became determined to break free from what was considered right. What was considered good. I would create my own definitions. My own love. And I would show A how wrong he was for hiding his emotions. I would show A that to receive proper comfort, he had to open up, to let those that cared for him know what was wrong.

And… eventually… I would earn L's love.

**B/N (beta note:D): Hello people! I hope you guys have enjoyed the story so far! I know I have:) It is really, really good. So review! Review and show your love for usssss! It gives me motivation. I hope it gives Beyond some motivation, too. She needs to update faster… haha, that's very hypocritical of me. I'm the whole damn reason these updates take so long xD Haha Sorry! I still love you, even if you guys hate me now :3**

**Oh, and also, when I went through to check the misspells you had made me aware of, Beyond, I also changed some more things. I made Near's part more... sad, I suppose and BB's portion had a tense issue, so I also fixed that. Anywho, any readers that have rea dthis far desevre a cookie *gives everyone who has rea dthis far cookies* Maybe that makes you hate me less? :3 lol I should shut up now...**

**Review! :)**


	9. Artistry

_I walk alone  
>Think of home<br>Memories of long ago  
>No one knows, I lost my soul long ago<br>Lied too much  
>She said that she's had enough<br>Am I too much?  
>She said that she's had enough<br>Standing on my own  
>Remembering the one, I left at home<br>Forget about the life, I used to know  
>Forget about the one, I left at home<em>

_**-On My Own, Three Day's Grace**_

(A'S POV)

I knew it was a problem when I started. I knew it, and I knew that I'd get in trouble if anyone else knew it. But how else was I supposed to dull the pain?

It was too much. The academic pressure… the dreams…

They weren't nightmares, but I'd prefer it if they were. Anything –_anything- _but the teasing of what could have been, what should have been, and what wasn't, nor could ever be. They were pleasant dreams, where my mind tormented me with the life that I had lost. With my mother's smile…my father's laugh…oh, these dreams haunted me, like a ghost that I always saw out of the corner of my eye.

To cope with all the pressure, I'd begun cutting myself. I'd heard of older kids doing it with razors. I settled for a kitchen knife.

I locked the bathroom door, sat on the floor, and rolled up my sleeve, revealing patterns of scars that trailed across my arm. I sat there just staring at them for a few moments. Everything was silent, everything was still, and I couldn't move a muscle. I just held the handle of the slim knife in my hand. I wasn't shaking, I wasn't nervous, and I most certainly wasn't going to _not _cut. No, rather, I simply enjoyed watching my arm. It was like a series still frames. In the beginning, there was nothing on my arm. And then, ever so slowly, cuts began to appear, blood began to drip, and it was all I could do to remind myself to breath.

Before anything even started, I had fantasies of the knife doing its work to me. I had to shake my head and take in an uneasy breath. I lost focus. I needed to do that again, but real. I needed to make what I saw in my mind a reality, to make the imaginary relief _real._

I eagerly began my bloody work, carving into my skin. Tears poured down my face as blood poured down my skin.

I drew pictures.

A house.

A stick-figure family.

An airplane.

I wrote words.

_FAMILY_

_HOME_

_ALONE_

_DROWNING_

I knew that I needed help. I needed someone to save me. But I didn't want to wait for one to show up. It just hurt so badly. I needed a way out. I needed some way to forget everything in the mean time. I was practically in purgatory and the self-mutilation was the only way to bide my time.

Finally, after what seemed like forever, I stopped. I stayed there for a while, trembling, blood running down my arm. Then, I got up, washed my wounds, and bandaged them so they wouldn't bleed through my shirt.

I opened the door. Beyond was standing there, waiting for me. As soon as my eyes met his, I was drowning in a pool of blood. And for once, it was not my own.

An icy feeling settled in the pit of my stomach. I tried not to lurch, tried not to heave the nonexistent contents of my stomach up right there. How the _hell _did he have such perfect timing? 'Perfect?' No, that was hardly perfect. That was… that was…

"What were you doing_?" _he asked, forcing his voice to stay calm.

"Uh, I, um-"

"You were hurting yourself." he pulled up my sleeve, proving his theory right.

How did he do that? How could he see right through me, right to all the secrets that I was trying to hide? And how the _hell _did he know when to come and stand in front of the bathroom door at such a random time. Well, God forbid I ever get to keep happiness. I absolutely knew that happiness wasn't stable for very long. How did I not see this coming? How did I not see the inevitable crumbling of my fairy tale of momentary relief? Suddenly, I became panicked. No. No, Beyond shouldn't have been there, he shouldn't have found out. What if he…

What if he told?

"Beyond, please don't tell," I begged.

"…I won't."

I froze.

Every thought halted as I looked up at him, surprised. Utterly surprised. My mouth was slightly ajar as he stared back at me with those solemn, red eyes. There must have been some sort of glint of confusion in my eyes because he felt the need it reiterate.

"I won't tell," he repeated. "I'll let you tell for yourself."

He turned and walked away. I could have sworn that he was laughing at me. I looked down at my arms, trying to see the cuts through the cloth. I tried to see the blood, the wounds, anything to think of something besides what had just happened. _Oh, dear God, please let the pain come back…_ I didn't necessarily believe in God, but there had to be _some way _to get away from reality, to get away from the truth. I looked over at my book shelf. Maybe… but no. I crossed the thoughts off immediately. And then my eyes were stinging. Tears, like pin pricks in the corner of my squinting eyes, began to drip helplessly to the floor.

What was all of this worth anymore? I mean… B didn't care. He didn't care anymore. Everything B did and said before he left clearly stated that. He didn't care. He didn't care. He didn't care anymore.

He didn't care about me anymore? How could he not care about me anymore? Why? WHY? What had I done wrong? Was it the fact that I was smarter than him? I was A after all. I was the Apprentice. I was the heir of L. Did he harbor some hidden resentment for me?

He didn't care, though. No matter what the motive, it all came back to one thing: _he didn't care anymore. _I dropped to my knees like a rock. What was I supposed to do? How was I supposed to get by? Was all of the self-harm for nothing? If I was waiting for something that would never come, then _why? Why? _Why any of it? WHY? WHY? _WHY! _

"_Why _Beyond?_ Why _don't you care anymore?" I cried to the ceiling. I was waiting for nothing. The cutting was for nothing. The blood was for nothing. The bandages were for nothing. My books were for nothing.

_All because Beyond Birthday decided to stop caring for poor, little, helpless A, _I sobbed.

(BEYOND'S POV)

I laughed as I walked away. Was A _really _that stupid? Really? Did he think that mutilating himself was going to fix his problems? What a sad, sorry world he lived in. If that was the case, so be it. Let him cut himself to ribbons if that's what he wants. Hell, I would have even helped him do it. He wasn't my friend anymore.

I passed by a group of girls, who stopped chattering and stared at me fearfully as I walked past.

I smiled, if only to myself. I was glad that I had such an intimidating reputation. Here, at only ten years old, I was already feared.

"I said shut up, minifaggot!"

"…Stop it…please…"

_Whack!_

"…Mello…"

"Blondie fag isn't gonna' help you, so just shut the fuck up."

My temper rose in my throat like fire. Why couldn't those damned teenagers just leave the children alone? What had they ever done?

I ran over to the place where the noises were coming from. I saw blood, and a mass of red hair. Matt. Mello lay, apparently unconscious, on the floor of the empty classroom a few feet off.

"You're both gonna' pay for what you did, you little homos! You messed Peter up bad, Blondie fag."

"Stop it," I said firmly. "Or _I'm _gonna' mess you up."

They looked over at me, annoyed.

"What are _you _gonna' do, bastard?"

"What, indeed?"

They froze suddenly, their faces going pale. I smiled. And then Watari walked in the room, obviously having heard my threat.

"You two, in my office. _Now."_

"But sir-"

"You heard me. _Now_." he led them away, practically dragging them along.

I went over and knelt next to Matt, shaking him gently.

"Are you alright?" I asked.

A moan. A low, despairing moan.

"…Daddy…please stop…I promise I'll be good…"

I furrowed my brow. I touched his shoulder lightly. He immediately curled into a tight little ball, whimpering pitifully.

"…Daddy, please…" he lapsed into Russian, and I could no longer understand him. I should have paid better attention in that class. I turned to Mello, deciding he would know what to do in this situation. I shook Mello lightly. He slowly looked up at me, a faraway look in his eyes. His eyes soon fall on Matt, though, beside me. He crawled over beside him as Matt said something else.

"Shhh…Matt, it's me, okay? It's just me. I'm not going to hurt you, okay?" he stroked Matt's hair, wiping away his tears as they fell, whispering sweet words of comfort. I smiled at that. Then, I scowled. They were just kids, for Christ's sake! No child should be given such a heavy burden to bear. A didn't, I didn't, and these two sure as hell didn't.

Nobody should have.

A shouldn't have to cut himself. Near shouldn't have to cry. Matt and Mello shouldn't have to get beaten up. And, despite how I wanted to think otherwise, X, Y, and Z shouldn't have to beat up children less than half their age to get attention, or to gain some pathetic, twisted sense of self worth.

Matt and Mello weren't any older than six, and yet they were already ostracized. Cast out by the stigma of society. Societal norms shouldn't even exist here. One would think that a school full of outcasts would be a _bit _more open-minded.

"You can go," Mello said, his voice shaky. "We don't need you here anymore."

I walked away to find L. he had to be somewhere around here.

I found him in the kitchen, and ran up to give him a hug.

(WATARI'S POV)

"But Mello hurt Pe-"

"Y, that is _quite _enough out of you," I sighed, exasperated beyond belief. Again. Again these three had attacked Matt and Mello. Again these three had harmed them. I glared at the three. Never had I glared at my children quite like that before. Yes, my 'children.' I sighed once more and walked around the desk to gather a few papers, merely a formality for what I was going to do. "You three have lost all privileges to the rec room for one week. Your only free time to leave your rooms are for meals, classes, showers, bathroom breaks, studying in the _library_, and from three to four in the afternoon. You are to-"

"Watari-" I whipped around to stare at the brunette in front of me. He clamped his mouth shut immediately as I straightened up. I closed my eyes.

"You are to be in your rooms at all other times for the next two weeks. Understood?" Y opened his mouth yet again, but thought better of it and simply nodded his head.

I pinched the bridge of my nose as the boys scurried from the room. I thought that the children would turn out better than this. Although, I supposed that there had to be a few bad ones, no matter how good the others might be. L conveniently came into my office at that exhausting moment. I faintly smiled as I straightened the papers, tapping them upright on my desk. I sat down and started to work on filling it out. Beyond was holding L's arm firmly, like a child with a toy he did not wish to share.

"Beyond told me that an incident occurred with Matt and Mello. Is that true?"

"Yes," I replied breathlessly. Could not a better topic have been chosen? Yet again, I sighed.

"I assume the responsible parties have been punished?"

"Yes." I looked up at the two, finding the sight to be rather amusing. Beyond was a seemingly lost puppy dog, demanding L to be his new owner. To give him a better life. And then that metaphor became reality. But a kind one, because L was not one to deny others this happiness. So I could not help but smile fondly at the two.  
>Beyond looked enough like L to be a younger brother. They both possessed the same dark hair and slouching posture. I almost laughed at this eerie similarity.<p>

"Thank you, Watari. I appreciate it."

I nodded, and L smiled at me before leaving the room, Beyond grinning broadly, and chattering away.

I smiled to myself as the door closed.

At least L seemed to be turning out alright. He was my favorite child there (you'd never hear me say _that _out loud), and I couldn't bear the thought that he would turn out like those delinquents. I groaned and began to type up the paper work onto my computer.

(NEAR'S POV)

I hadn't left my room since L had seen me cry.

He'd actually seen me crying. I felt like banging my head against a wall for being so weak. I thought boys weren't supposed to cry. That was the whole reason why I was picked on. The whole reason I was abandoned: because I was a crybaby. If I'd been tougher, then maybe I'd still have a family…

…Was L going to hate me, too? Was he going to hate me, now that I'd shown him that I was weak? Was he going to leave me, like mother and father had? I didn't want to think about it. didn't want to think about how L had hugged me. Seen me in my weakness. I didn't want to think about being dropped off in a random city again. I didn't want to think. I didn't want to think about it anymore. I sniffled.

I wound up my robot and let it walk across the floor, staring at it, mesmerized.

It must have a good life. It was emotionless. It had no feelings or the human foibles that

threatened to destroy us all. It simply…existed.

That was how I wanted to be. To just exist.

No more feelings.

No more pain.

No more worries.

No more fears.

And…no more weaknesses to hold me down.

Suddenly I couldn't wait to arrive at my abattoir.

**Alright, I know Watari isn't a Wammy's House kid, but I just love that old man so much :D Anyway, thanks for reading.**

**B/N: Ahh! Yes, Wammy is so awesome! I am elated to have been able to write about him! *glomps BeyondChaos* Thank you so much! And also, cookies for everybody! BUT! I have something else to say… we seem to have converted a person to Near-dom! I am so happy that you like him^^ I know, I wasn't too fond of him at first, but then… I don't know, he just existed and I fell in love! Well… this B/N is **_**probably **_**going to annoy the hell out of Beyond so I will… shut up now…**

**Review! :D**


	10. For Whom the Bell Tolls

She lives in a fairy tale  
>Somewhere too far for us to find<br>Forgotten the taste and smell  
>Of the world that she's left behind<br>It's all about the exposure the lens I told her  
>The angles were all wrong now<br>She's ripping wings off of butterflies

Keep your feet on the ground  
>When your head's in the clouds<p>

Well go get your shovel  
>And we'll dig a deep hole<br>To bury the castle, bury the castle

**-_Brick by Boring Brick (Paramore)_**

(MATT'S POV)  
>I sighed deeply as I tried to concentrate on a particularly troublesome math equation. Tapping my pencil on the edge of my desk, I cast distracted glances to the other children in the classroom. Most of them were doing a lot better than I. Near, especially. He was nearly done with his quiz. How did he know all of this stuff? All I ever saw him doing was playing with his toys. When did he study? I sighed and shook my head. <em>Focus, Mail…<em>

Try as I might, I found it almost impossible to focus. My mind kept drifting to what happened in the playroom.

Was there something wrong with Mello and I being good friends? Was there something wrong with being _me?  
><em>

I looked down at my hand. I turned it over so I could see the scar that marked the place where my father had stabbed me through, like Jesus on the cross.

Jesus... Jesus Christ. The man who was supposed to be our savior. Or redeemer. The great I Am and all of that. So, where was he? Did he not notice what was happening in my life? Did he not

know what we were all going through?

I forced the thought from my mind. God has a plan for all of us. He cares about everyone... even me...

... Doesn't He?

I forced my attention back to the test paper. The numbers continued to swarm before me. I tapped my pencil a few more times, before giving the first answer that popped into my head.  
>It would have to be enough.<p>

My test completed, I stretched out and looked over at Mello. He seemed to have finished long ago, but was looking over his answers again and again, trying to catch any miniscule error he might have made. He was determined to succeed L. Determined to beat Near. Me? I didn't care about any of that. I just wanted to relax. To be a kid for a change. To let my problems drift away like the ocean tide. Maybe that's why I was always so into my video games. In that realm of digitalized everything, I didn't have to worry about being a super genius. I didn't have to worry about being bullied or made fun of because of my friendship. I was able to stop worrying.

Is that such a bad thing for a six year old to want?

After what felt like forever, class was over, and we were let outside for a break. Mello dragged me over to the group of boys that were organizing a soccer game. Two of them elected themselves as team captains, and began calling other boys onto their teams. They drifted away, one at a time, onto the team of the boy that called them.

Eventually, Mello and I were the only boys that remained. Wow. What a shocker.

"I guess I'll take Mello," One of the captains said, more than a hint of annoyance in his voice. I smirked. Apparently he didn't know just how good of a player Mello was.

I began to head over to the opposing team.

"Hey, hold up, ginger," he snapped at me. "We already have an even number of players. Get lost!"

Mello opened his mouth to snap at him, but I raised my hand.

"It's okay. I don't mind," I said. "I'll just sit on the bench if you need me."

I sat. I waited. Of course, nobody ever called my name. Even Mello eventually forgot about me, scoring goal after goal, much to the astonishment of everyone playing. I ended up pulling out my Game Boy, stuck in my Yellow Version, and began playing, pausing every once in a while to cheer Mello on. When recess was over, Mello ran up to me, sweaty and grinning, with wind-tousled hair and sparkling eyes.

"That was great!" He gushed. "I bet I impressed everyone! Did you see how good I did, Matt?"

"Yeah," I said, shrugging. "I'm glad you got to have fun."

"Hey, don't be like that. I'm sorry you couldn't play. I bet you'll get the chance next time."

I shrugged again, clicking my game off as we headed to our next class, sticking it in my side pocket. I honestly didn't care too much anymore.

Mello took my hand, like he always did when we walked together. We ignored the snide remarks of the other students. Mello was rapidly becoming an expert at giving the cold shoulder. I learned to make a snarky comment or two at anyone stupid enough to insult me to my face.

"Homos."

"Says the guy with earrings."

Mello would inevitably laugh when I'd say something like that. His laugh was beautiful. It had an almost musical quality to it, high and clear, the way I imagined an angel's laugh might sound.

No matter how many times I got him to laugh, I always wanted to hear it again.

(MELLO'S POV)

"Are you coming to bed yet, Mel? It's past midnight," Matt whined.

"Yeah, yeah. Just gimme' a second." I dog-eared my page, closed the textbook, and crawled into bed beside him.

He looked at me with his clear, green eyes, and I stared back at them, mesmerized by their color. They were the purest shade of green I'd ever seen, without even a bit of brown to dirty the purity of their color.

I snuggled up to him, and fell asleep.

_"STOP IT! PLEASE! IT HURTS! MOMMA, PLEASE, HELP ME!"  
><em>

_The man refused to even acknowledge my pleas, continuing to pound into me mercilessly as I cried for my mother.  
><em>

_It seemed as if each plunge took him deeper into me than the last, tearing some new portion of flesh with every thrust. I screamed. My throat burned. I cried. He did not care. He just __**did not care.  
><strong>_

_It seemed as though it was an eternity before the man finally got off, hot cum stinging the raw, bleeding wounds. I continued to cry, dirty and used.  
><em>

_"Momma," I whimpered. "Momma... it hurts."  
><em>

_He returned me to my father the next morning. I could barely walk. He hurt me too badly. I got sick, and was confined to my bed.  
><em>

_It was just too much... too much for a child to bear.  
><em>

I awoke. Matt was shaking me. As soon as I was aware of him, he hugged me.

"What are your dreams about?" He whispered. I sighed. I supposed the time had come to tell him.

"I… back before I came to Wammy's, I… was treated like an animal. My dad, he… he would _lend _me to men ten times my age to service them. I… I was there so the other crime bosses that my dad associated with would be in favor of my dad's plans. He wanted to- to expand his empire and all… I was used… as a bridge… between monsters… to have favor with each other…" I cried into Matt's shoulders as I told him my story, my story that haunted me every night. I felt a strange searing ice coat my face as the tears fell. It felt so good to have someone else bear that secret with me. I wasn't alone, but… it still hurt. It still hurt like it always did. But Matt was there. He was there like he always said he would. Not once did he cringe away, though I clearly saw horror in his expression at my tale.

But he never moved an inch, to my comfort._  
><em>

"I'm here for you, Mel," Matt said fervently, cuddling up to me again. "I'll never leave you. I'll be here as long as you want me to be."

I cuddled up close to Matt again. The pounding of the rain on the roof outside lulling me, once more, into the world of dreams. Dreams where I was swimming in an ocean of green.

(A's POV)

I couldn't sleep.

I sat up and looked over at Beyond, who stared out the window, watching the trees whip around in the raging thunderstorm. The bells rang low, their sorrowful sound rising above the thunder. I hopped out of bed and walked closer to him.

"B?"

"..."

"B?"

"...For whom does the bell toll?" Beyond asked.

I cocked my head. Why was he quoting Ernest Hemmingway?

"It tolls for thee?" I said nervously, finishing the quote.

"Perhaps," Beyond said, not bothering to look at me. "Or perhaps it tolls for you."

"Huh?"

"They say that every time a bell rings, another angel gets its wings, am I right?"

"That's how the saying goes," I agreed, "but why?"

"I don't believe that." Beyond looked over at me, a maniacal look on his face. He smiled, showing his abnormally sharp teeth. Then, he laughed, and his laugh was cold, and cheerless. A madman's laugh. I cringed at his expression. What was happening to him? Ever since the day he found out about my cutting it seemed as though his sanity had spiraled to near nonexistent. Was he losing it, truly losing it?

"I think that every time a bell rings, another angel falls," he said, ruby red eyes seeming to glow in the dark room. A bolt of lightning would occasionally throw his face into relief.

"Every time a bell rings, a newborn child cries. Every time a bell rings, another human dies." He seemed disconnected, detached from reality. "The bell will be ringing for you soon, Aden Armstrong."

I gasped, taking a small step back.

"H-how do you know my na-"

"Aden Armstrong, one-five-one-seven-zero-eight," he said. "Your life is almost over, _Aden."_

**B/N: **Holy cow! Beyond is _losing _it! Haha I lovez him so much x3 Though I feel terrible for the position A is in. I have grown very attached to the little guy. Sigh… maybe I should write a fic about him… anywho,

**Review!**

**I**

**I**

**I**

**V**

(Hehe don't you like my creativity? :3)


	11. Patience

_Sometimes I feel_  
><em>Like I don't have a partner<br>_Sometimes I feel_  
><em>Like my only friend<em>  
><em>Is the city I live in<em>  
><em>The city of Angels<em>  
><em>Lonely as I am<em>  
><em>Together we cry<em>_

_I drive on her streets_  
><em>'Cause she's my companion<em>  
><em>I walk through her hills<em>  
><em>'Cause she knows who I am<em>  
><em>She sees my good deeds and<em>  
><em>She kisses me windy and<em>  
><em>I never worry<em>  
><em>Now that is a lie<em>  
><em><strong>-Under the Bridge, Red Hot Chili Peppers<strong>_

(A'S POV)

I could hardly summon the will to get out of bed the next morning. There was no point. I wanted nothing more than to lay right there and die. Still, I forced myself to pull myself out of my dreams, and went downstairs, wondering if I could summon the will to eat. I felt nauseous, my stomach was twisting in aching knots.

"Good morning, A!" I turned around. Beyond was smiling at me with the happiest expression I had ever seen. He was completely different from what he was before. He seemed just like any other kid.

"Leave me alone," I told him.

"What s wrong, A? Did you have a nightmare?"

I looked down at my shoes, refusing to look into those bright red eyes.

"No. No, it wasn't that. I'm fine, really."

Beyond seemed to accept that. He grabbed me wrist, giggling like a little girl, and dragged me down to the dining room.

What was wrong with him? Just last night, he had glared at me. Laughed at me. And now, not even five hours later, he was acting like I was his best friend. Was he insane? Really, truly insane? Which Beyond Birthday was the true Beyond Birthday? The happy, smiling schoolboy, eating toast with strawberry jam beside me, or the raging psychopath that had mocked me? Maybe he was both.

Or, Perhaps he was neither. Maybe his various personae were just a coping mechanism. To help him deal with the trauma he had been through. Everyone seemed to have their own way of dealing with their problems.

Everyone except me. My wounds remained raw, and bleeding.

I considered the possibility that Beyond might have multiple personalities, but quickly dismissed it. Beyond might have suffered some severe trauma as a child, but he was too strong willed for even his subconcious to pull a trick like that. No, every part of Beyond was within tangible reach for him. Every part of Beyond was accessible. But that left even more questions swarming in my already spinning mind. What the heck was Beyond's problem? Why was he so... psychotic?

I glanced over my shoulder at the giant clock that hung on the north wall of the dining room.

"B, when is L getting home?" I asked.

Oh, not until tonight. Beyond had suddenly become quiet, his voice a flat monotone, face smooth and expressionless. He stared aimlessly at something in the distance.

What was wrong with him?

He stood up.

"I'm going to head over to class now," he said, in a stiffly polite tone, before leaving the room. I stared after him, wondering just how many masks Beyond wore to hide his true face.

(B'S POV)

He just had to mention L, didn't he? The moment he mentioned L, I became painfully aware of his absence. I missed him. I wanted him there beside me. I wanted him to hold me, to run his fingers through my hair. I wanted him to kiss me, like I imagined him doing in my dreams. I wanted him to...

_L pressed me onto the mattress softly, slipping his fingers into the waistband of my jeans. He kissed me, his skilled tongue enticing me. No wonder he could tie all of those cherry stems together so perfectly..._

_"Are you sure?" He asked me. I nodded feverishly. I wanted this so badly..._

_I cringed with the pain as he prepared me, long fingers probing me gently, scissoring ever so slightly. He pulled them out with calculated care. And then, another part of him -the one I wanted in me more than anything- slid into me slowly. It hurt, but it was a good kind of pain. He rocked in and out of me, reducing me into a mess of moans and strangled cries as he kissed me in all the right places.  
><em>

_His hand continued to work their magic on me. I threw my head back, moaning his name. With one last thrust, one last tug on my own hard cock, I was brought to a shuddering climax.  
><em>

I shook my head violently. I wasn't sure that I should be having those kinds of thoughts at my age. I was only ten. But, oh, I wanted it so badly. My soul ached with desire for him. My mentor. My first friend. My first love.

I wondered how L would react if he knew of the erotic dreams I'd been having of him. The dreams that gave me relief from my nightmares, but only heightened my desires. I pushed the thought out of my mind. I would worry about that some other time.

He had been the one who comforted me when I first came to Wammy's House. He coaxed out of me what nobody else could. He prodded the tender wounds in my heart, but he did it in such a way that it didn't hurt. In fact, it relieved the pain, and caused the truth to flow forth freely.

_"We can't get him to talk to any of us."  
><em>

_"Maybe we can get L to talk to him."_

_A raven-haired boy -L Lawliet, the name above his head had read- stepped into the room and crouched down in the chair across from me. I pouted and looked away._

_"So, your name is Rue, isn't it?"_

_I nodded stiffly._

_"That s a good name. Mine is-"_

_"L. I know."_

_He scratched his head._

_"Rue, we need you to tell us what happened, okay?"_

_I shook my head violently._

_"Rue, I know you're in pain right now. I know some terrible things happened to you back there. But I need to tell me about it, or it will never feel any better."_

_Tears began to burn in my eyes._

_"You can tell me anything. I'm not mad at you, and you're not in any trouble. I just want to know what happened."  
><em>

_His voice was quiet, gentle, nice, pleading..._

_"He called me devil boy," I said, quietly. "He said my mommy was a demon whore."_

_L immediately looked quite upset._

_"Why would he say something like that?"_

_"I dunno! I don't even know what a 'whore' is! He just came in, yelled at us, and then he stabbed my mommy!" I was bawling at that point, a terrible heap of pitiful sobbing. L stood from his perch and walked up to me. He wrapped his arms around me, and hugged me. I cried into his chest, screaming, letting out my pent-up frustration._

He became my friend, helping me whenever there was something wrong. And I loved him for it. The fact of the matter was, I had become rather dependent on L. When he was around, I was happy. When he was gone, I was miserable. That was how it had always been. Wasn't that what love was?

I was alone in the classroom. Lessons wouldn't start for another twenty minutes.

I closed my eyes, allowing myself to once again slip into that world of lustful fantasies; of L wanting me, touching me, saying that he loved me...I wanted that so much. But I knew I would have to wait. Until I was a few years older, at the very least.

I'd make the wait worth it.

(NEAR'S POV)

The bells rang loudly, and classes began.

While the professor lectured us on some principal of physics, I fiddled around with some finger puppets. I had drawn the faces of my

family on them, acting out different scenarios I wish would have happened.

I had my parents tell me that they loved me.

Martha did a puzzle with me.

They clapped when I read aloud to them.

I loved my fantasy world: it was so much better than reality.

Mello turned around to look at me. He smirked at the finger puppets I'd made.

"Baby," he said condescendingly. I shrunk back, trying not to let my hurt show.

"Stop it, Mel," Matt snapped. "Don't be a hypocrite. You _know _It's not right to pick on someone."

"But-"

"Stop it, Mello. It's never right to make fun of someone who hasn't done anything wrong."

Why? Why did I always have to rely on others to protect me? When would I be strong enough not to run and hide every time something hurt me? I looked at my puppets. I would content myself with them for now. Until the day I had rid myself of all my useless, weakening emotions. Until I could take care of myself.

Until then, I would have to let Matt be the barrier protecting me from Mello's petty teasing.

Matt was still chewing Mello out under his breath, anger on his face. It was amusing how angry Matt could get when Mello was being mean. Matt was many things; lackadaisical, unmotivated, easygoing, and more than a bit lazy, but I suppose he wasn't one to stand idly by when someone was in trouble. He'd gotten beaten up and harassed more than once because of his kind nature.

That was his problem. He was too kind. And Mello was too angry. But something about that intrigued me. That raw, unbridled hotheadedness that Mello could display at the slightest provocation. The pure determination he had when he wanted something.

I sighed. Why couldn't I be like that? the only motivation I had was to gain L's approval. Nothing more. Nothing less. Mello wanted to _be_ L, and actively pursued that goal.

While playing basketball in gym class, I noticed something. When I played, I wanted my side to win, though I didn't much care how we did it. I would sit out when necessary, play when I had to, the works. And if we lost, oh well. Mello, on the other hand, wanted to be the star. The one who scored the winning point. He'd play as long and hard as he could, only sitting out when he had no other choice, and getting back in the game as soon as possible. He refused to stay down or accept defeat. As for Matt... I believe that he participated simply for the sake of having a game to play. He spent most of the time on the sidelines, but always cheered us on. He just wanted to have fun.

Our team won the match. Matt and Mello high-fived, then hugged. Then, we went to our next class. Mello went on and on about it.

Matt listened, with a satisfied grin. I trailed behind them, like a half-inflated balloon.

And so, the game of basketball ended, and the game of life continued.

**B/N: **Ooh~ Fast update! How was that? What did you think about the LxBB fantasy? Did we do good? Review and tell us! ;)


	12. Fallen Angel

**B/N: I DEDICATE THE LIME IN THIS CHAPTER TO MATTO-CHAN. YOU KNOW WHO YOU ARE! *pokes you with Stick* :3**

**(I write this a few hours after the dedication, so lay off if it sounds like an entirely seperate thing! well... cuz it kinda is TT^TT) Also, great thanks goes to Matto-chan for schooling me on guy-gasm xD It was much needed and this lime would suck ass if it weren't for his helpful and (unnecessarily) detailed information:) C'mon, Matto-chan! You know I love you even if your descriptions of things are rather...**_** extremely **_**detailed, to say the least c:**

**BUT IT'S ALWAYS HELPFUL SO DON'T STOP. ELSEWISE I SHALL ALSO STOP BEING A GOOD YAOI SMUT WRITER *tears* And nobody wants that now do you guys?**

**Anywho, yeah, blahblahblah Beta, we don't care about you! We don't even mention you in our reviews! Get on with the story, Beta! Shut up, Beta, you're so booooring! **

**I get it, okay! I know, I know... I just had to give credit where credit was due^^ So thanks again Matto-chan! And I hope you enjoy this lime^^**

**... as I hope everyone else does as well... carry on, now:3**

**WARNING: %$*Liiiiiiime*$% ... as **_**blatantly **_**stated in the A/N above this warning that some readers are too lazy to read xD It's okay, I don't blame you. I used to be the same way x3**

I_ tried to kill the pain_  
><em>but only brought more<em>  
><em>so much more<em>  
><em>I lay dying<em>  
><em>and I'm pouring crimson regret and betrayal<em>  
><em>I'm dying, praying, bleeding and screaming<em>  
><em>am I too lost to be saved<em>  
><em>am I too lost?<em>

_my God my tourniquet_  
><em>return to me salvation<em>  
><em>my God my tourniquet<em>  
><em>return to me salvation<em>

_do you remember me_  
><em>lost for so long<em>  
><em>will you be on the other side<em>  
><em>or will you forget me<em>  
><em>I'm dying, praying, bleeding and screaming<em>  
><em>am I too lost to be saved<em>  
><em>am I too lost?<em>

_my God my tourniquet_  
><em>return to me salvation<em>  
><em>my God my tourniquet<em>  
><em>return to me salvation<em>

_I want to die!_

_my God my tourniquet_  
><em>return to me salvation<em>  
><em>my God my tourniquet<em>  
><em>return to me salvation<em>

_my wounds cry for the grave_  
><em>my soul cries for deliverance<em>  
><em>will I be denied Christ<em>  
><em>tourniquet<em>  
><em>my suicide<em>

**-Tourniquet, Evanescence**

(BEYOND)

I rolled over restlessly. Sleep was eluding me that night. It irritated me to no end. If I couldn't sleep, how was I supposed to dream about L? I immediately felt angry at my subconscious. Dreaming was the only way I could exercise my sexual fantasies. No, they weren't reality, but dreaming up such relations with L was much better than having none at all. I wanted so badly to feel his hands all over my body, his tongue that was a master at tying cherry stems, hear him moan my name... but I shook my head, knowing that taunting myself like that would get me nowhere but growing irritation.

Slowly, I got out of bed. I wandered the deserted corridors, looking at the many paintings and murals with a cold indifference that adorned the walls. They all seemed too innocent. So pure, unlike the artwork that resided on the other side of Wammy's House, which only depicted suffering and death. Why couldn't my room be there? It was closer to where L slept anyway...

I walked to the part of the orphanage where L's room was. I saw him standing before his door, prepared to enter.

"So, you're back," I said coldly. In all honesty, I wanted to throw my arms around him, to hug him, kiss him, and tell him how much I missed him while he was away. I wanted to beg him to never leave again. But... I shoved those feelings down. I felt obligated to control and restrain those near-overpowering emotions. Self-control was a must at that point around L.

"Oh, hello, Beyond," L said, sounding surprised, "what are you doing awake?"

"I had a nightmare," I lied.

"Oh, I'm sorry to hear that," he gave me a quick hug, "I'm really tired right now, Beyond. Can we talk in the morning?"

"Sure," was my curt response and I turned on my heel. As soon as my back was to him, I let the smile blow up on my face. All the way back to my room, I could feel my heart leaping with joy. Though, I would never out right admit that to anybody. Those feelings had to be controlled, had to be under lock and key. But, as lids closed over ruby-red eyes, I threw all caution in the wind...

_Trailing kisses over L's stomach, I worked the buttons of his pants undone. They snapped open quickly. He lifted his hips from the bed to help me wriggle the unwanted article of clothing from his body, along with his boxers. I threw them aside as I held L's hips in place and bent my head forward... only for my face to lightly bump into L's palm. He quickly took me by my shoulders and flipped me over onto the sheets, kissing my inner thigh. What a surprising change of events that was._

_"Beyond... you're always the one to give, give, give," his hand traced an invisible line from my left pelvic bone to my right and back again. I shivered under his cool touch as it passed through the sensitive area. "You should get to be the recipient at least once, Beyond."_

_"No, I'm fine," I quietly protested, "let me up, L." However, L held me down to the bed quite easily. He was four years my senior, so that feat was not a hard one at all. I squirmed, though, regretting the decision to come into his bedroom in the first place. He held my hips firmly in place._

_"Just settle down... relax, a little, Beyond..." L murmured as he grasped my shaft with both hands. I gasped at his touch. He had never done this to me before; it was a shocking sensation that sent a warping heat to my stomach. The warmth quickly spilled into my lower regions as L spoke and proceeded with further action. "Don't tense up..." His head ducked down and quickly flicked his tongue over me, immediately causing me to let loose a growling moan. I gripped the sheets at my sides, trying to control myself. I hissed his name through my teeth as his tongue danced tantalizingly slow around my sensitized head, what I realized now, must be my sweetest spot. I felt myself harden under his ministartions, a deafening love-hate whirling in my ears._

_"L... stop..." It felt so good, but at the same time I hated the feeling. It shouldn't be him on top, I wanted to growl. It shouldn't be him doing to this to me! I was supposed to be the one that pleased the other. I didn't take- I couldn't take! Something in my mentality made it an impossible position to be in. I tried to pull myself away from L, but found no room to wiggle free with. After a few meek attempts, however, I fell back against the bed and let L have his way._

_Was this what L felt every time I did it to him? It was like I needed to explode into a million atoms to relieve the pressure I felt. I couldn't quite place the unknown feeling, only that it must have been how L felt. He always gripped my hair tighter and tighter near the end until he finally called out my name and came inside my mouth with a strangled mewl. Was this what that was?_

_My eyes nearly rolled as his tongue -the tongue that could tie cherry stems, for God's sake!- continued swiveling around the head so tauntingly, teeth lightly grazing the underside, lips, tongue, wetness, the mixture of texture too divine. I thrust my hips upward, nearly gagging L with my sudden movement. However, L uses this as the time to take the greater part of me in his mouth. His movements are careful and sure as he continues teasing and pleasing me, my hips ever-moving. I felt L bring a hand to my hip, allowing me movement, but also preventing his own slight gagging. He soon found the rhythm to my thrusting and bobs his head along with it, his tongue working the sensitive underside of my cock._

_"Ahh- L!" I wanted to scream out his real name, not his given letter. His real name tasted so much better on my lips, now pursed. My breath quickened to heavy panting as I let out a few more incoherent mewls of my own before finally feeling the familiar tingling in my lower belly. "Ah! Lawliet!" I shouted his name over and over, frantically thrusting my hips in hard jerks as much as his with-holding right hand would allow. I whimpered and squirmed beneath L, my eyes seeing black. I thrust one, two, three more times as I milked myself of everything I had. It was warm and sweet and felt like honey drizzling over my brain, slowing down any further function and cognition. All I knew was that it was all so good I could taste it; nearly feel it with my fingers, now tearing into the cotton fabric of the sheets beneath me. L's hands fell limp on the bed on either side of my person and he pulled away, practically spitting out my cock_.

_I panted a few times, gathering my breath, before finally looking down to see L. His coal black eyes stared at me with smoldering intensity. Quickly, a new fire burned in my gut, except this one was extremely unpleasant. My stomach burned in terror, for I knew what was wrong._

_"How do you know my name?" He asked slowly with hidden venom._

_"L..."_

I awoke with a jolt. My clock read five in the morning. Staring at the ceiling I took in a few gulps of air and measured my current situation. I was in bed, I had just woken up from a... a... not a dream, not a nightmare, but something somewhere in between. However, it did veer off toward the latter near the end. The end, so terrifying. L's rejection, simply because of what I am. What I knew. Would he really be so cruel if he knew? I had to find out. I had to know if L really would reject me for such simple knowledge. Well, simple by my standards, I supposed.

And then another thought occurred to me. I yawned contentedly, bearing a light-hearted smile as soon as I understood the truth. That day was an important day, after all.

It was the day when A died.

I quickly dressed and ran to meet L, slamming into him as I raced down a hallway. "Good morning, L!" I chirped brightly, "did you sleep well?"

"Well enough," he replied slowly, looking at me in curiosity. "And yourself?"

"Oh, I slept great!"

"That's a relief. Now, how about we go get some breakfast?"

"Sure!" I followed L down to the kitchen and watched him make French toast, hypnotized by his beauty. Some people would look at his unkempt hair and baggy clothes and call him odd. To me, though, they were a part of his appeal. He did not care about dressing 'properly' for people. What was 'proper' anyway? 'Proper' was merely a synonym for 'right' and right was merely societal standards that shunned what it saw as 'unfit.' L, however, did not conform. He did not fix his hair up, he did not wear what fashion magazines told him to wear. He did not care. And all of that was shown in his appearance. For once, something at face value that could be analyzed for what it truly was: L was at ease with himself to the point of indifference for what others thought. Just one more thing to love about him, I thought and continued watching sleepily as he cooked.

The dream drifted slowly to mind as he sat our plates down at a table. I looked up at L as he placed an eager bite of syrup-drenched toast in his mouth. His tongue... that could tie cherries. I smiled quietly to myself. Why had I been so unwilling? Well, that could have been argued by my lack of gusto in fighting him off, but... it was semantics, and a dream at that, so what did it matter? And his name... the way he simply stopped... and rejected... my face heated in shame.

"Food is not just for looks, Beyond; you eat it. Are you not feeling well?"

I took a few bites to make him happy. I had to see... I had to see if he really would do that to me.

"L, can I tell you a secret?" I asked. I wanted to test his loyalty. To see how much of myself I could tell him before he treated like he did in my dream.

"Um, sure what is it?" I smiled at him, resting my chin on the backs of my hands.

"I can see how long people have left to live," I said, "I can see your lifespan right now." My grin broadened, while L looked merely confused. I decided to keep the name portion a secret. Test him little by little, reveal information slowly over time. That was the safest move, correct. I nodded to myself in reassurance.

"What does that mean?"

"I know when people are going to die," I said simply, "it's written above their head, just sort of floating there." I leaned in closer as L began to look frightened. "Would you like me to tell you how much longer you have left to live?" I whispered close to his ear.

"Um... no. I'd like that to be a surprise," L said. I could hear the slight waiver in his voice and felt a pang of guilt.

"Fair enough," I replied, shrugging off the situation. It didn't make a difference whether or not he knew. Judging by the numbers above his head, he was going to be around for a long time. I watched the numbers, pleased with the greatness of them. I sighed and began impaling the French toast with my fork.

"Oh, good morning, A. Would you like some breakfast?" L seemed all too eager to redirect his attention. That infuriated me. His focus should have been on _me _not _him. _I looked over and, sure enough, A was standing in the doorway to the dining room. Those numbers swam above his head, testifying that he would not live to see the end of the day.

It took all of my self-restraint not to laugh at him

His dull, orange-brown hair, usually combed perfectly, hung in disarray. He wore the same clothes as yesterday -wrinkled and stiff looking, too-, and overall seemed disheveled and hopeless. Quite a contrast to the perfect intellect everyone wanted him to be. More laughter built in the pit of my stomach, constricting the muscles.

"No, thank you," he replied. Even his voice sounded hopeless, void of anything but. It was all just _too funny, _I smiled.

"Well, then I suggest you two go get ready for class," L's voice became that of a superior's, making sure each of his subordinates was in line and obedient.

A nodded and left without a sound, like he was never really there in the first place. He reminded me a bit of a ghost, never to be remembered once exorcised.

My self-control finally broke as he disappeared around the corner. I began laughing. It was so funny. So utterly hilarious. That poor son of a bitch was going to die today and nobody had a clue! I was roaring with laughter, throwing my head back in the uncontrollable fit. My stomach ached and my jaw throbbed, but I didn't care. Something this funny just _had _to be laughed at and laughed at until you had no more oxygen left in your lungs. My mouth was broad, very broad indeed. I could feel it stretched all the way across my face, like that of a jester's paint. I shook, joyous bubbles of laughter and periodic giggling escaping my parted lips.

"Beyond, are you okay?"

I broke into a new, stronger fit of laughter, holding my stomach. I considered the thought that my torso might fall apart with all of my shaking and astintacious howling.

"Today... is the day," I said, shaking with laughter, "It's finally here!" I shouted with glee.

"What is today?" I couldn't see L for the tears and my tightly shut eyes, but I believe he was more than just a little frightened. Still, I couldn't stop myself. I couldn't help it. I could not control the fit. It was just... _so damn hilarious._

"Today is the day when he finally dies!" I was doubled over, my stomach aching. Too funny. It was _too funny. _I erupted in a fresh fit of laughter, thinking of how he might off himself. Being such a super genius he could think of something inventive, correct? More laughter.

L stood slowly from his seat and walked around the table. Placing his hands on my shoulders, he slowly guided me to the stair case that led to the hall way in which my room resided in. My laughter settled down as I stopped at the foot of the stairs. I looked over and saw L, obviously shaken by the last few minutes. It was obvious that I had scared him. I knew something was wrong as I saw his eyes, widen at my now suddenly mellow state. I had let L see under my mask, to the twisted face that lay beneath.

Quickly, I turned on my heel and ran up the marble stair case. Slamming the door behind me as I entered my room, I furiously yanked off my clothes, dressing for class. I made a mental note to never let L see me like that again... and whose fault was it? I pondered that thought for a quick second... and the answer came as quickly as my query.

A was to blame.

Oh, I hated A so much! _He _was the successor. _He _was L's number one. But worst of all, he thought I had lost my mind. I hadn't lost my mind. I didn't even have a mind to begin with, let alone one to lose. However, once A was out of the picture and L couldn't play favorites anymore, I could get closer to L. And then, someday...

...we could finally be together.

(A)

It was too much.

It was all too much.

My heart ached for my family, for what I had lost. I wanted it back. But of course, that was impossible. I cried for fantasies, what could never be, and I felt pathetic for it. That didn't stop me, though, from wishing. I wished _every single day _for things to change back to what they were. To what my life was before the plane crashed. It felt so tangible, so possible to be. I felt that reality existing in my heart. I knew it was happening. I knew that somewhere -whether in the reality I lived in or not-, I was living happily with my family.

And it killed me that I couldn't be a part of that reality.

But I knew it was impossible at the same time.

Besides, I had no inherent value, anyway. I was worthless. Just one of God only knows how many orphans that lived in the world. Not a name. Just a letter. Just a single letter. That was all I was worth.

Just A.

Everyone expected me to succeed L. That was impossible. Sure, I guess I was a smart kid, but what was the point? I was worthless. I wasn't worth the dirt under L's feet, let alone worthy of his _entire legacy._

It was time to face the facts: I did not matter. If I died, nobody would care. I had no friends... not since Beyond had lost his mind. I had no family. They were either dead or wanted nothing to do with me. And that only strengthened my case of how worthless I truly was. I was just a single person on a rocky planet that rotated around a sun, hurtling through the infinite blackness of the universe.

In my bathroom after the encounter with L and Beyond, I slashed my wrists open, crying as the pain ripped through me.

I screamed.

The bells rung outside. The ones that meant I was late for class... the class that I would never go to again.

It was time for me to die. But not by cutting myself. That would hurt too much and take too long. I had looked up different ways to commit suicide. Cutting your wrists could take at least four hours. You needed a hot bath, too, to circulate the blood flow and speed up the painfully slow process. No, I needed something more efficient that would end it all quickly. Four hours was a lot of time to simply sit, soaking in a bath tub with throbbing, bleeding wrists.

With blood running down my arms, I wept against the pain. It was very nearly unendurable for me. I thought I could feel the air _inside _my body. It was a terrifying thought, but I didn't focus too much on the vulnerable and sickening feeling. No, I simply took in the halls around me.

The ones I would never walk through again.

I would disappear, like a ghost. One that never mattered.

Nobody would remember me.

I would be like the flame of a candle, silently blown out.

Forever forgotten, so easily so.

I exited the orphanage, practically dragging myself to the stairs of the bell tower, there I would end it all.

_"For whom does the bell toll?"_

The bell's refrains were still echoing by the time I got there.

_"It tolls for thee?"_

I stood, looking down at the ground below. I was at least a hundred feet up. That would almost certainly kill me.

_"Perhaps... or perhaps it tolls for you."_

_"Huh?"_

To die by defenestrating -or falling in general- one must plummet at least six or seven stories for the fall to be fatal. Another fact I read about a while back. Or maybe that was yesterday.

_"They say every time a bell rings, another angel gets its wings, am I right?"_

Nobody was there to stop me. Nobody to call for help. That was good. Nobody to get in my way... nobody to stop me.

_"That's how the saying goes... but why?"_

Then again, if there was nobody to care then there was nobody to help. I simply contradicted myself and needed correction. Yes... if nobody cared nobody would help. I swallowed deeply.

_"I don't believe that."_

I closed my eyes and took in a large whiff of the air around me. The sky was clear, no cloud in sight. The air was crisp, and smelled of the aspen trees around the orphanage. It was clean and strong. I could almost feel the leaves resting against the opening of my nostrils. It was a nice smell to be left with before death. That sentence quickly jolted me back to reality. I opened my eyes to see leaves dancing around on the courtyard below me.

I took a small step forward, placing my hand on a pillar of the tower. It was stone. Worn. Flaky. Cool to the touch, like lukewarm water. I focused on my hand and the feeling the texture left on my palm. I could feel it like it was searing my flesh. A last sensation. The last touch. The last smell. It was all coming together, all coming to a close. Similar to how a book might end. The pages were quickly turning as the reader was eager to get to the last part, the end. The last sentence was mere paragraphs away and I could feel it in the marrow of my bones. In the pit of my knotted stomach.

_"I think that every time a bell rings, a new born child cries..."_

Unlike what I had always heard or seen in movies, my life did not flash before my eyes. I stood at the precipice of my death, only seeing the ground below and the empty space before me. A numbness settled over me. It was not the tingling kind, either. Not the kind that sent chills down your spine. No, it was simply... _I _simply _was._

_"... every time a bell rings, another human dies."_

Before I could turn around or change my mind, I threw myself off the tower. The ground seemed to rush forward to meet me. I felt my heart slamming in my chest, felt my stomach freeze over like the Ice Age had begun inside me, my breathing halted...

...

And I hit the ground.

_"The bell will be ringing for you soon, Aden Armstrong."_

My head made contact with a sickening _crack._ I could feel myself bleeding. Blackness crept into the corners of my visions. Or maybe that was tears. Yes, tears. Perhaps both.

I was dying.

_"H-how do you know my na-"_

I was dying and I didn't want to die.

I didn't want to die.

I didn't want to die!

My heart exploded inside my chest with something crazy and it burned like a wild fire. I was nervous. Anxious. Terrified. Mortified. Horrified. No, no, no, no. NO, NO, NO, NO, NO!

I didn't want to die, I wanted to live. I wanted to live. I tried to cry for help... I couldn't scream. I tried to move... my body was shackled to the ground. It was the most horrifying feeling I had _ever felt. _Not being able to move, not being able to breath, not being able to speak. I felt trapped and bound. Gagged and tied. Worst of all, I could feel the blood pooling around me quickly. I had never felt so helpless in my entire life. Never felt so _terribly helpless._

Not even when my parents were dying.

_"Aden Armstrong...,"_

Death... what was death? When did death happen? Was death happening to me at that moment? Was death an action or a state of being? How could you be if you were no longer alive, though? What would death be like? Will there be a flash of light? A tunnel? Fire? Heaven? My parents? Nothing? My chest constricted. I gagged for air.

Stillness inside me.

It was worse than being immobile. I was utterly... mortified, and quite literally at that moment in time. I felt my heart stop. I felt it stop completely. My chest flared as I gagged and choked and screamed silent screams, plead silent please, all for help, all for life.

Neither was given.

_"... one-five-one-seven-zero-eight."_

I had become a coward. I finally got up the courage to kill myself, and now, when I had finally secured my fate, I didn't want it anymore? What kind of a failure _was _I? Why was I constantly so pathetic? I barraged myself with self-loathing, and full-well deserving it.

Nobody was around... there was nothing I could do... nobody could save me.

Suddenly, through my rapidly fading vision, I saw Beyond walk up to me. I wanted to plea with him, to beg him to save me, to get help. To do _something. _I opened my mouth, but no sound came out. My vision faded faster and faster and I knew I was seconds away from the unknown oblivion of death. The last thing I saw was his red eyes, glowing. He leered at me. He laughed his hoarse, hollow, cold laugh.

It was the last thing I ever heard...

_"Your life is almost over Aden."_

...and then the flames.

(BEYOND)

I stood over his body, cackling like a mad man as the name above his head, and the numbers as well, all but disappeared. I let the laughter flow, seeing as how it was Aden's last moments. I had to give him some sort of good-bye present. He had to have something to take with him to the afterlife. I laughed so hard, I tripped as I turned and walked away to the playground, jar of strawberry jam in hand. My smile was wide as I sat on a swing set, slowly rocking myself back and forth.

Back and forth.

Back and forth.

Slowly and gently.

Feel the wind blow.

I shoved two of my fingers into the jar and scooped out a generous helping of the jam, blood red and tempting. It was almost the same color as my eyes. I observed the luminescence of it for a moment. Did my eyes shine like that in the sunlight? Or in the dark? It was a curious thought that honestly peaked my interest. After another second of deliberation, I finally stuck my fingers in my mouth and sucked.

It tasted mighty fine if I do say so myself.

**Wow...I'm sorry if I upset anyone. That was pretty damn depressing...**

**I apologize as well… I… a part of me died with A… *sniffles***

**MON DIEU, what did we just DOOOO? Ava, I'm scared TT^TT I think we broke the universe or something with what we did to A D: GAAAHHH! And, uh... what did you guys think of the... LxBB in **_**this **_**chapter? Nobody reviewed and talked about it last time, so I'm scared that they suck:/ Anywho, reviews are lovely,**

**Chu~**

**Oh, and personally, I see L in boxers... in fact... I see all sexy guys in boxers... but... maybe that's just because boxers sexy, period xD What do you guys think? I'm totally curious about your responses! And no censorship! It is unnnecessary (obvioulsy:P) so go hog wild! :D **


	13. Suffocation

_**I wanted you to know I love the way you laugh  
>I wanna hold you high and steal your pain away<br>I keep your photograph, I know it serves me well  
>I wanna hold you high and steal your pain<strong>_

**'Cause I'm broken when I'm lonesome**

_**And I don't feel right when you're gone away**_

**You're gone away**

**The worst is over now and we can breathe again**

_**I wanna hold you high, you steal my pain away  
>There's so much left to learn, and no one left to fight<br>I wanna hold you high and steal your pain  
>-Seether, Broken<br>**_

(MATT)

Colored lights flickered in front of me as I prepared to defeat the final boss on Mega Man. We were both down to our last bit of health. I jumped off a wall to deliver a finishing blow.

"Matt!"

Losing focus, Sigma hit me. I died in a bunch of spiraling lights and an annoying beeping sound. Seething, I turned around to face Mello who was waiting impatiently by the door way. His hair was slightly ruffled and fluffy, like he hadn't brushed it before dressing and pulling me from an important triumph. So, obviously, there was something of great importance, for Mello never left the room looking short of 'impeccable.' He had to beat Near in any way possible... even looking nice... six-year-olds looking nice... Major eye roll right there, for me.

"Dang it, Mel!" I said in irritation. "That was my last life! Do you have any idea how close I was?" I said in indignation as he closed the distance between us. I waved the controller at him, pointing at it with my other hand, emphasizing the fact that he had _clearly _upset the balance of the universe with his careless behavior.

"Who cares?" Mello brushed off my gaming failure that he had just caused. "Everyone's been called into the auditorium. Come on, let's go!" He grabbed me by the wrist, pulling me and dragging me along. I managed to fling my Game Boy at my bed before he slammed the door on my heels and hauled me down the long corridors.

"Hey, hey! I can walk on my own, y'know!" I hated it when Mello was like that. It was like he was my mother or something... okay, not my mother, per se, but a very controlling person nonetheless. Assuming mothers were over-controlling, that is. It wasn't like I would know.

We quietly took our seats in a quaint pair around the middle, closer to the front than the back. I looked up at the adults. The entire faculty looked grave. L looked so upset that he was even more hunched than normal. This wasn't good. What was going on?

Roger approached the podium.

Needless to say, all eyes were on his every move. He cleared his throat and stared at the very back of the room, a guise to make us think he was watching the entire room. We were trained to tell the difference between both -behavioral analysis classes under our belt and all-, so something was definitely making Roger nervous.

Besides, that man was _never _nervous, merely grouchy and... old man-ish. His mouth was a scowl, still unparted. He licked his lips and finally decided to begin. By this time I was at the edge of my seat, nearly screaming at the old geezer to get on with it. Procrastination might have been a hobby of mine, but stalling news of grave importance was a pet peeve of mine.

"I'm afraid that A has recently committed suicide." He said in a flat, simple tone. That was it. He stepped down. And then he began to walk back to his seat.

Time seemed to stop and my use of the word 'grave' took on a whole new meaning.

Dead?

Suicide?

Wait... what was he talking about?

Watari took the microphone.

"There will be no classes for the remainder of the week," he said, "a memorial service will be held this Friday."

I felt white-hot anger bubbling in my throat. They were being so nonchalant about the whole thing. Their troubled expressions felt fake and meaningless to me now. As Watari continued speaking, I found myself unable to comprehend his words any longer. All I could feel was my anger, mingling with a sudden, overwhelming sadness.

They didn't even care. Members of the faculty talked quietly amongst themselves as Watari spoke. They _didn't even care. _A child just died under their care and they didn't even give a damn. I barely knew him, and yet... I could sense that there was something off about him, as I thought about it. Whenever I passed him in the hallway, I could fell something... a sort of aura, emanating from him. Something sad. A crushing loneliness. A feeling I knew all too well.

"You are all dismissed."

I growled. Were they seriously that heartless? I could tell that Watari was upset, but the others... they didn't look like they could care less.

I slammed the door to my and Mello's bedroom, quaking with my barely suppressed emotions.

I didn't sleep at all that night, instead imagining how terrible A must have felt before he died, all the while wondering how I could feel so upset over someone I hardly even knew. Maybe it was because he was in a room identical to mine. Maybe it was because we had the same teachers. Maybe it was because we ate the same food. Maybe it was because he used to lay in his bed -exactly like mine- every single night and staired at his ceiling -which looked exactly like mine. A's suicide felt so close to home. Not in the way that it could have been me, no not at all. In the way that... maybe I could have done something. Yes, I could have helped him. We were... we were in the same damn boat.

I apologized to him that night, using Mello's rosary as he slept beside me.

Hopefully, wherever A was, he could hear me and accept my apology.

(MELLO)

The next two days at Wammy's House were strange. All of the children were eerily quiet. An atmosphere of death hung around the institution; one that set a somber, melancholy mood that permeated everything. Even Matt's obsessive video game playing had cooled down in the last forty-eight hours. It was frightening what the death of a stranger could do to an entire population of unseeing people.

I felt like I was suffocating.

The feeling of darkness... of hopelessness... the reality of death, I had come here to escape that, but now it had become more real than ever. This whole affair was making me remember things that were better left forgotten, buried deep within my closet. I felt emotions that I was trying to mask.

And I hated that.

(BEYOND)

It took all of my self-restraint to contain my laughter as they put A in the ground.

Nobody was crying. Not a single person. I couldn't believe it. One would think that they would care... Great, now _I _was getting chocked up. I took a deep breath and wiped away the tears that had begun to form in my eyes. I couldn't feel about it. Not now. Not after I'd come so far.

No... I refused to shed any tears for Aden Armstrong.

L was clearly devastated. That stirred a little remorse within me. _But he's got you, _I reminded myself. _He'll get over A eventually. Just give it time. _I liked the sound of that. A was out of the picture for good. I'd have L all to myself. I hid my mouth behind my hand, no longer able to hold back my grin.

I finally broke out in laughter when I prepared for bed that night. I think it was the sight of A's side of the room, stripped bare and completely empty. That did it. It was the final proof that he really was gone forever. And with him gone... I forced the memory of L's troubled face out of my mind and soon fell asleep. I drifted off into a land of interlocking bodies and moans laced with ecstasy.

I found myself pulled from sleep shortly after entering a rather steamy dream by an unwelcome noise. I groaned in indignation, turning over to try and fall back asleep.

"_Kukukuku_... you awake yet, sunshine?"

"Hn?" I turned over again, clicking on my lamp. I winced as my eyes snapped shut immediately, seeming to be burned by the harsh light.

"I was wondering when you'd finally notice me."

I looked over at the source of noise.

There, not floating twelve feet from me was a creature that could best be described as a dead clown with black wings. I did what was natural for someone to do in such a situation.

I screamed.

**teehee~ **

**I wonder who this could be?**

**Those who're right will get a cookie!**

**And a lovely hug from me^^**

**So please be nice and drop a review**

**That I may give one to you:3**

**They're chocolate chip! or... whatever your favorite kind of hug happens to be. Wait, did you really think I meant the cookies? Heck naw! The cookies are electronic, dude x]**


	14. Thin Air

(RYUUK)

"So you're Rue's kid, huh? Guess that's why I couldn't see your name."

The kid was shaking. I guess I'd scared him. He pressed himself against the head post of his bed, eyes frozen on me. For such a little kid, that guy could sure scream _loud._

"Hey, hey, hold up there kid," I advised. "Don't scream. It hurts my ears."

He quieted down after that, but he still didn't seem to calm down. I wondered whether this kid was going to be as fun as I initially thought. I decided to give him a chance however, and humor him.

"W-w-w-what the _hell _are you?"

"Oh my, no manners at all," I muttered. As soon as I said that, the boy's expression changed. He leaned forward a little, examining me closer. It was the first time I had ever felt alienated. Well, I guess with eyes like that kid had, anything was possible. He continued to stare at me for a few more moments. I could see his face in the dim light, staring at me as though entranced.

"What…are you, exactly?" he asked again, but in a different tone, one that was more curious than frightened. He cocked his head to one side, scanning me with his eyes.

"Well, I'm a Shinigami."

His eyes went wide.

"…Shinigami?" he asked, awestruck. "So…Shinigami actually exist?"

"Oh yeah, we exist," I assured him.

He looked down at his hands.

"So...my mother wasn't lying to me," he muttered to himself. "She told me the truth. If gods of death exist...and if this one says the same thing about my father...then she must have been telling me the truth...So I'm not crazy!"

"Uh, kid?"

He looked back up at me, startled.

"Oh! I'm sorry, I just got a little distracted. I didn't even ask for your name."

He wasn't at all like I'd imagined him to be. I suppose it was a stupid thought, but I'd imagined him to look more like Rue. All he seemed to have inherited from him were the Shinigami eyes and a pair of unusually sharp canine teeth. Other than that, he was actually kind of cute. His face still had that soft babyish look about it, with big, trustful eyes. Not really a fitting face for the wicked laughter that came out of his mouth. He threw his head back, laughing at...something.

"What's so funny?" I asked, only slightly perturbed.

Silence reigned for a minute or so, before he answered me.

"It's not you, it's me," he said. "I just said that I'm not crazy. That's not entirely true. Forgive me. Anyway, what's your name?"

I chuckled. This kid _was_ pretty interesting.

"My name is Ryuuk."

"It's a pleasure to meet you. My name is Beyond Bi-"

He cut himself off. A smirk crossed his face.

"Rue Ryuuzaki." He got out of his bed, never once breaking eye contact.

I followed him out of the room and down the hall. He opened the door into the kitchen, heading straight for the refrigerator. He rummaged around for a bit before pulling out a jar of strawberry jam.

"...I know it's in here somewhere...ah. Here it is."

He pulled out a bag of apples before slamming the refrigerator door shut with a great clang of clashing jars. He pulled one out of the bag, offering it to me as he sat at a nearby table. I took it from him and ate it. It was ice cold and juicy, just the way I like them.

"Now, tell me more about my father," he commanded.

"Rue?" I asked. "Well, where do I start? He hung out with Jealous all the time. They'd get into arguments over whether or not human life had any value. One day, Rue went to go kill some people and never came back. Why do you ask?"

Rue threw me another apple, while licking jam off the fingers on his other hand.

"I was just curious. That's not a bad thing, is it, Ryuuk?"

(BEYOND)

"Course not," Ryuuk replied, chuckling.

I continued to lick the strawberry jam off my fingers, observing the Shinigami carefully.

"Do I amuse you, Ryuuk?" I asked.

"Oh yeah, very interesting," he replied. "I haven't had this much fun in awhile. I'm surprised that you can even see me. Although, I probably shouldn't have been."

"Why not?" I tossed the last apple up to Ryuuk, who towered above me a good two and a half, almost three feet. He caught his read treasure gleefully and took a huge bite out of it.

"Because Daddy was a God of Death. I shouldn't have been surprised that you could see us."

I looked up at Ryuuk, not having any more real question to ask. I yawned and stood from my place at the table, then waved for him to follow me as I made the trip back to my bedroom.

"Feel free to come by at any time, Ryuuk," I said. "Just don't scare me like that next time."

"Oh yeah, sure. You humans really are something else."

I stretched upon my bed, feeling warm, sleepy, and happier than I'd felt in awhile. It was just about enough to bring a smile to my face.

"Goodnight, Ryuuk."

With that, I fell asleep.

(NEAR)

The house I was walking in was old and dusty, completely dilapidated. I stood in the middle of a dark and musky sitting room, all of the couches covered with white sheets. On the walls were pictures of every size, but I couldn't make out what was within the frames. I took a few steps to the wall opposite of the entry way and held my face closer to the large picture, which was apparently a family portrait.

Of the River family.

Martha was smiling, holding me as a toddler in her lap. Mom and dad in the back ground on either side of us, a hand on our shoulders. The next one over was similar, except smaller and with the theme of Christmas. I seemed a little younger, less hair and more drool. Martha too, was younger; she wore no braces. Beside that in an oval shaped frame was Martha and I, playing together in the front yard. I seemed well beyond three years old, playing catch.

Tears were pricking the corners of my eyes. All of these photos along the walls, all of these 'memories,' were things that I had dreamed of my entire life. I wanted this relationship with my family that was _such a given _to most. Continuing down the wall, seemingly endless for a simple living room, I saw more photographs.

Me reading aloud to my parents and the disgust on their faces.

Martha yelling at me.

Me sitting alone in my room with a puzzle.

Me alone in New York City.

Silent tears slipped down my cheek. Large and opaque, they each hit the floor with an audible _plop._ I didn't want to look at anything anymore. This were turning into memories, painful ones that constantly torment me and plague my actions. I wanted away from this house of hell. But where was I to go? I had no where else, no one else. I was completely alone in the world.

Well, then... so be it.

I took off for the front door, tears staining my sleeve as I wiped furiously at them. My heart pounded in my chest as I approached the wooden portal that would take me away from this place. I stopped in front of it, looking at the handle with wide and anxious eyes. What would be on the other side? What could someone like _me _find there? Tools for creating more painful memories? Or an escape?

I slowly lifted my hand up to the door knob, resolute in discovery. And just as the tip of my fingers brushed against the brass, it was like my entire body had been set on fire.

I screamed outright and bolted up in my bed, sweat pouring down my face, panting. I was shaking. And looking around in the dark, I found myself in my bedroom at Wammy's House, not in some far away, nonexistent, broken down house. I shut my eyes and tried to calm myself down, but the tears would not be subdued. The fell just like in my dream, fat drops wetting my blanket. I took in a shaky breath and after several minutes, my heart's slamming in my rib cage turned into a slow drum beat. Silence rung in my ears, but that was all the sound I required, all the sound I _wanted._ But then another caught my attention: voices.

"...and if this one says the same thing about my father...then she must have been telling me the truth...So I'm not crazy!" It was Beyond in his bedroom beside mine. "Oh! I'm sorry, I just got a little distracted. I didn't even ask for your name." And then he started laughing like a... like a... well, frankly, like the deranged psycho he was. After a few moments his laughter quieted down to absolute silence. He spoke up again shortly thereafter.

"It's not you, it's me," he said. "I just said that I'm not crazy. That's not entirely true. Forgive me. Anyway, what's your name?" He was... talking to somebody? I turned my legs over the side of my bed and padded quietly to the wall that I shared with Beyond's room. I pressed my ear gingerly to it, listening for a response, maybe. Had he sneaked a person into his bedroom? Certainly he wasn't talking to _himself_? But quickly, I realized he was, for after a small reign of silence, he spoke again.

"It's a pleasure to meet you. My name is Beyond Bi-"

He apparently cut himself off and I could hear the smile in his voice.

"Rue Ryuuzaki." For a second, I thought Beyond had also forgotten his codename. I stood there, listening to him stand and leave his bedroom, walking by my door, and down the corridor. I pulled myself from the wall and settled into my slightly damp sheets again. I can feel their wetness on my fingertips as I hold the blanket up to my chin, curling into it for the fading warmth. And then a thought struck me. Beyond had not forgotten his codename. Who could? It was pounded in our heads as soon as we got here that we no longer used our true names. No, Beyond had told his real name to thin air.

He really was nuts.

**B/N: **I'm so sorry this took so long TT^TT Beta's fault! *slaps self with Stick* So, I give you all awesome strawberry cheese cakes and Near plushies! Please forgive me and do not kill me D:

Also, we really need some help on the lyrics! Please leave a review with your suggestions or feel free to PM BeyondChaos, or Unleash Your Inner Pervert; or send me (the shining beta:D) an email at (at) yahoo (dot) com.

We would really appreciate your help! Thanks!

Please review!


	15. Vocation

_***WARNING***_ **This chapter contains the graphic rape of a six-year-old boy. Reader discretion is advised.**

**There. Now, If anyone didn't notice the giant _*WARNING* _up there, it's not my fault ;-)**

**Anyway, I thought it was only fair to give people the heads-up. This chapter contains non-eroticized rape, because let's face it people, a six-year-old _cannot _enjoy something like that. Hell, nobody can enjoy something like that. It's just wrong. I honestly don't know what the hell inspired me to write this. Or perhaps 'inspired' is giving it too much credit XD. **

**Onto the reviews!**

**lozzy035: Thanks so much for the reviews :D Beyond himself aknowledged that saying he _wasn't_ crazy was a stupid thought :). Which it kind of is. **

**A NOTICE TO ALL REVIEWERS:By the way, I really don't mean to nitpick, but I'd like to ask that you write more than a couple of vague comments and/or an 'update soon'. I'd like to know how to improve the story. Constructive criticism is a must for any author to improve. Thanks a bunch ;)**

**By the way, Happy birthday, Matto-chan :D**

_I still remember the world  
>From the eyes of a child<br>Slowly those feelings  
>Were clouded by what I know now<em>

Where has my heart gone

_  
>An uneven trade for the real world<br>Oh I... I want to go back to  
>Believing in everything and knowing nothing at all<em>

I still remember the sun

_  
>Always warm on my back<br>Somehow it seems colder now_

Where has my heart gone

_  
>Trapped in the eyes of a stranger<br>Oh I... I want to go back to  
>Believing in everything<em>

Iesu, Rex admirabilis (Jesus, wonderful King)  
>Et triumphator nobilis, (Triumphant and noble)<br>Dulcedo ineffabilis, (Beautiful and infallible)  
>Totus desiderabilis. (All he desired)<p>

**Evanescence, **_**Field of Innocence **_(Latin translated by me)

**~*Beyond*~**

I opened the door to L's room. He was lying on his bed, staring up at the ceiling, forlorn. A pang of guilt struck me, but I crushed it as soon as it came up.

"L? Are you okay?" I asked.

"Oh…hello, B. I'm just…" he sighed deeply, "I just don't know what to do anymore. I can't seem to concentrate on anything. I'm sorry, but now really isn't the best time to talk."

_I don't want to talk._

I crawled up on the bed and settled beside him, snuggling up to him. He was warm, and inviting.

"Beyond, I really don't-"

"I just want you to feel better," I said. "Please just let me stay here."

Silence: he didn't protest anymore.

I pulled myself in closer, taking a deep breath. He smelled like strawberries, sugar, and pastries. It was a comforting smell, much like the scent my mother always had. At that moment, I couldn't think of anywhere I'd rather be. Putting my arms around him, I reveled in the closeness. Eventually, he put his around me as well. A warm smile tickled my lips as I closed my eyes in happiness.

L was crying quietly against me, holding me close. I hid my face in his chest so he wouldn't catch my smile.

**~**Mello**~**

Matt and I passed Beyond in the hallway. I brushed against his elbow. He looked over his shoulder and gave me a friendly smile. I glowered and turned to Matt.

"Hey, have you noticed something off about BB lately?" I asked.

"Off? Well, he sure seems happier lately. I can say that much."

"That's what I'm saying. He seems really happy. _Too _happy. The guy who was supposedly his best friend offs himself, and not even five days later, he's the happiest guy at the school. Something's not right here," I growled.

"I'm gonna do a little detective work, Matt. Are you in?"

"Aw, Mel, do I have to?" He moaned, staring with even more intensity as his hand-held, maybe in some vein hope that I would find empathy in my heart for the gamer. No such luck, little Mattie.

"Yes!" I shouted. "C'mon, Matt, I need your help on this, please?" I just said please. Damn, I must have been desperate. But I really needed help, and I knew I couldn't do it alone.

"I'll try, but I don't see how I can help you here."

"Thank you so much!" I said as I gave Matt a hug. Matt turned bright red and mumbled something that sounded like, "_aw, cut it out Mel."_

The bells rang out. We ran to our classroom, sitting down in our desks the moment our teacher began his lecture.

I leaned forward and continued whispering to Matt, trying to be quiet enough that Near, who sat quietly folding origami cranes behind us, wouldn't be able to hear.

"Listen, Matt. This is why I need your help. You're better than me at being able to tell when someone's lying. I'm gonna try to talk to Beyond, and I'm gonna ask him about A's death. Then. I want you to tell me whether or not he's lying."

"I'd like to help, if I could," Near said. Damn it! How on Earth did _he _hear?

"Mind your own business!" I snapped. Why did he _always _have to butt in?

"Mello, don't be so mean," Matt scolded. "He's just trying to help."

"Well, I don't _need _his help."

Matt gave me the silent treatment for the rest of class. That was his way of saying '_I'm pissed at you right now.'_

By the time class was over, however, Matt still didn't talk to me. He was acting so moody lately. I thought Roger gave him something that was supposed to make sure he _wasn't _like this all the time.

"Hey, Matt, did you forget to take that medicine Roger gave you again?" I asked.

"Forget nothing," Matt said nastily. "I hate how it makes me feel. I'd rather be miserable."

"How it makes you feel? I thought it was supposed to be making you feel better."

"That's the problem! Whenever I take it, I don't feel anything. It's really weird, so I stopped taking it. I threw the pills away a long time ago."

"You know Roger's gonna get mad at you."

"Like I care. What's he gonna do to me?"

I wanted to say something, but it would have to wait. Now, we had to confront Beyond.

He was in the library, like he usually was, reading one of those Stephen King novels that only the older kids were supposed to be reading.

"B, we need to talk to you," I said, not allowing myself to be intimidated by him.

"Yes?" He said politely, looking up from his book.

I took a deep breath.

"Look," I began, deciding to get straight to the point. "I know you had something to do with A dying, and I want to know what, and you're gonna tell me."

B had a perfectly innocent look on his face.

"I would never have dreamed of laying a hand on my best friend," he told me simply.

"So you'd want me to think," I snapped. "You've got everybody fooled. But I'm not buying it."

"I would never harm my closest friend," Beyond repeated. "You're just going to have to trust me on that."

"If you cared about him so much, then why did he kill himself?" I demanded.

"There are many reasons for committing suicide," Beyond said, shrugging. "I'm not a mind reader, so I wouldn't know."

I grabbed Matt by the wrist and dragged him away. I led him into our room.

"Well?" I asked. "Is he lying or what?"

"…He's definitely hiding something," Matt conceded. "But…I don't think he ever hurt A. So, technically, he was telling the truth."

I couldn't believe it. My temper flared.

"That can't be right!"

"Maybe _you_ just can't handle being wrong."

My anger was like a living thing inside me. Like some sort of phantom that possessed me. Before I was even aware of what I was doing, I punched Matt across the face. He fell to the ground and looked up at me, a hurt expression on his face. He curled up into a little ball, and began to cry. I immediately regretted what I had done.

"…Matt…I'm sorry."

"Just go away," he sobbed. "Leave me alone!"

I was sorry…I was so sorry. So why couldn't he forgive me? Couldn't he tell that I felt bad? Why did he have to make me feel _worse?_

"Fine. Be like that. See if I care!" I shrieked at him, before storming out of the room, slamming the door shut behind me.

I stomped down the hallway, so blinded by my anger that I nearly ran straight into Linda.

"'Scuse me..."

"Oh, uh, I'm sorry!" She blushed. "Hey, have you seen Matt? Roger needs to talk to him."

I jerked my head in his general direction.

"In our room."

"Thanks," she said, before disappearing in a whirl of bouncy golden pigtails.

I turned my attention back to the task at hand. I wandered aimlessly around Wammy's, my mind working furiously. I grabbed a chocolate bar off the shelf in the kitchen. Biting into it calmed me down a little bit, helping me think clearer.

_Matt said that BB never harmed A directly,_ I thought, pacing back and forth in the playroom. Near was the only other person in the room, building a huge block tower. _I trust Matt too much to discount what he says. With that information, the most likely scenario is that A really did kill himself. Still…he could have helped him, or been involved in some other way…_

"Yeah…that actually makes sense," I said out loud. "B could've talked him into it, but never actually laid a hand on him. That explains whatever he was trying to hide from us."

"Would you like some help, Mello?" Near asked.

"What do you mean?" I demanded.

"I think that I could be a good help in your little investigation." He held out his hand.

I smacked it, and kicked down his tower, smirking as the blocks collapsed around him. He remained largely impassive, simply beginning to rebuild it. For some reason this made me even more angry; the lack of any sort of emotional response. A lifeless, indifferent machine.

I slapped him, trying to get some sort of reaction out of him. And yet, he still gave none. And that made me furious. Did the guy have any feelings at all?

I stalked out of the room, heading out to the swimming pool in the back of the building. I rolled up my pant legs and stuck my feet in the pool, splashing the water around. I stayed like that for about ten minutes, finding it harder to concentrate on the task at hand. I finished up my chocolate bar, thinking about how I had lost my temper and hit Matt.

_You should at least go and apologize, _

My little inner-Mello (the one that nagged me every time I did something wrong) said. As hard as it was for me to admit, that voice was right. The least I could do was say I was sorry. Maybe even to Near, too…no. My pride couldn't handle that.

I headed back to our room and opened the door.

"Matt?" He wasn't back in the room yet. Instead, I felt a hand grab my hair roughly, throwing my head against a wall. The door slammed shut.

I looked up at the undefined figure blearily, my head pounding from the violent shock. When the details of the person came in focus, however, my eyes widened.

It was Y; his dull brown eyes alight with ice-cold fury that immediately struck fear into my heart. And yet…I didn't run away. I _couldn't _run away. I felt tethered to the ground with my own petrified terror.

He picked me up off the floor by my shirt collar.

I didn't know what he was planning on doing. I watched with a fearful curiosity as he moved his arm. My eyes widened and widened as I followed there path downwards. He was reaching for my pants. I gasped, and began struggling against him.

"H-hey! W-what are you doing?" I demanded. Y didn't say anything, but jerked my pants off in one swift motion.

"Y! What a-"

He slapped me.

"You know damn well what I'm doing!" He spat. "You and Matt fuck each other's brains out all the time, don't you faggot? I'm just taking my turn. Consider it repayment for that scar

you gave Peter."

Another sharp slap across my face.

I began to tremble. He was going to do _that _to me…He was going to screw me, fuck me, _rape _me, whatever you wanted to call it.

He pulled his own pants down, grabbing me by the hair and forcing me onto my knees; they hit the floor like rocks, bringing tears to my eyes.

"C'mon, suck on my cock you dirty little fag!" I hesitated. "What are you waiting for? I'm not paying a _dime_ for a cheap little whore like you," he sneered.

He punched me when i didn't do what he said. When i continued to resist, he continued to hit me, until I doubted there was any unbruised skin on my body. At last, I relented.

I shook as I slowly took him into my mouth, quaking with fear and revulsion.

Grabbing another handful of my hair, he shoved me down on it, making me gag. Closing my eyes tightly, I did what I always did when I was called upon to service older men. I moved my head up and down, doing what I was apparently born for. He grabbed my head and forced me down, perhaps trying to choke me on his dick.

Was this all I was good for? Did all the grades, all the test scores, mean nothing, because I would just wind up a whore anyway? Were all my dreams worth nothing? All the long nights spent studying...was it all for this?

"Heh. Figures the little faggot knows how to suck a dick."

_"Daddy, I don't get it. Why do you let those guys h-hurt me?"_

_"Because all you ever are is a waste of space and a waste of time. I figured that I could make you do something useful for a change."_

"It's probably all you know how to do, anyway..."

Sucking cock and acting helpless...it was all I knew before Wammy's. Before Matt.

There was a time when I had been innocent. Those memories were faded now, and seemed so far away. My childish innocence and optimism had been discarded years ago.

The funny thing was, I could still remember what I felt back then. That happiness, that blissful ignorance...but those feelings were gone as soon as I recalled them, like water passing through my fingers. Destroyed by all that I have endured.

Suddenly, he stopped, and pulled me off him and onto the floor. A string of saliva followed me down as my back hit the carpet with a muffled _thud_. He looked so much stronger than me, looming above me. Just like all those other men had, while I was helpless and scared…

Y stooped down between my legs, separating them and pressing them hard against me, so that my knees touched my chest. His hands held my thighs as he positioned himself to enter. My own hands fumbled with his, trying to pull them off, trying to claw my way from beneath him, but Y wouldn't tolerate any fighting. He lifted an arm and back-handed me into silence.

He shoved himself in without warning, without preparation, and without any lubrication.

Pain. Horrible, blinding pain. It stung; it burned; it screamed. There are no words to accurately describe the absolute torture I felt at that moment. He didn't even wait two whole seconds before he began to move, tearing me open without a second thought.

There was no way the tears could continue to be held back.

_Why..._ was the only thought I had. Why was he doing this? Why did I _let _him do this? Why did I have to go through this again. reliving that nightmare?

_A man so much bigger and stronger than me, pinning me down, leering at my naked form, before he takes what he wants from me. I try to think of other things in an attempt to dull the pain, but find no medication._

I tried not to scream. I really did. I tried to be strong. But that burning, ripping, all consuming hurt was just too much for me. It was so hard to choke back my sobs, creating a second burning in my throat. Then again, maybe that was from how raw it was when he impaled my face. I would never know.

"You like that, faggot?"

I knew I was bleeding, from both the metallic scent that hung in the air, and with the apparent ease with which Y was moving in and out as he pounded me ruthlessly.

_Thrusting. Grunting. Using. _

_No care for me or my well-being. Just his own selfish desire._

_The need to dominate someone he perceived as a lesser being._

It felt as if a red-hot poker had been shoved into me, burning me like a branding iron.

_Then...I found that special place. A place where I could go when it just hurt too badly. A place where I could pretend that I wasn't being raped. That my father didn't let them. A dull black void where nothing could touch me. _

"Do you like this, faggot?"

I screamed only one more time before my mind seemed to shut down. It was that safe place that I had created for when I was lent like a cheap sex tape. I suddenly felt oddly disconnected from this...this rape. I closed my eyes, blocking out what I didn't want to see. The only sounds that I made from then on were soft moans and whimpers that fell from my lips as he continued slamming into me without mercy.

I began to move my hips along with his, which, in my experience, helped the hurt just a little bit. It might have looked like I was enjoying it. The sounds I made, the way I moved, even the face I was undoubtedly making seemed to say that this was consensual. That I was enjoying it. My tears were the only testament to the contrary.

Maybe I _was_ enjoying it.

"Ha! You _do _like it! You're sick in the head, you freak!"

Suddenly, as if from far away, I heard the bedroom door open.

"I told you, I Don't- _Me'!_" Matt's voice.

Oh, God, why did Matt have to see this?

"Y! What. Are. You. _Doing?" _Roger.

I never thought I'd be so glad to hear him talk.

I began to cry more freely then. I felt Y pull out me, almost sensing his fear. I could tell that he never dreamed that he'd be caught. I felt the blood dribble down my leg, the aching, seering pain all over my body becoming magnified.

Matt knelt beside me, throwing himself over me and crying.

"I'm sorry, Mel," he said, over and over, almost like a prayer. "I'm sorry...I'm sorry..." I reached my hand out to him feebly, touching his. He took my hand and held it tight. I suddenly remembered the whole purpose of my coming back here in the first place.

"Matt," I said, my voice burning, as if my throat had been rubbed raw with sandpaper. "...I'm sorry I hit you."

**A/N: God...I killed myself writing this. Anyway, please leave a review ^.^**

**B/N: **

I hope Mello doesn't hurt us _too _badly for writing this... though I do believe we deserve some form of punishment for what we have just done TT^TT Any readers see this coming? I sure as hell didn't 0.0;;


	16. 16 Friends and Shinigami

**_Take my hand  
>Maybe we should run away<br>Maybe we should disappear  
>Leave everything behind<br>Like the useless things  
>Boxes labled memories<br>The sudden health emergencies  
>Yeah, we could leave those things behind<em>**

**_Show me, show me arms that reach __for all we can be  
>Through understanding, I tried forgiveness<br>I faced the past, it's what I witnessed_**

**_-Blue October, "The Chills_ ** _"  
><em>**~O~**_  
><em>

**~Matt~**

My whole world seemed to be crashing down around me as I cradled Mello's head to my chest. His pain, his anguish, his humiliation…it seemed like I was feeling it just as badly as he was. As if his emotions were somehow coming to me through a kind of telepathic link. It was a ridiculous idea, but…

I had always been able to decipher other people's emotions. Maybe I was good at reading facial expressions, I really don't know. What I did know was that Mello was my best friend. I could read him better than anyone.

He was sad.

He was in pain.

He was humiliated beyond words.

"Matt, stay with Mello. I'm going to call for an ambulance." Roger pulled Y -who had such a strange facial expression, like he vaguely knew of how much pain he had caused, much less cared- out of the room. The door clicked shut softly. Mello made a small, pained noise as he tried to turn over. I held him closer, willing him not to move or cause anymore unnecessary pain to himself.

I couldn't bear to see him like this. I'd seen him sad before, when he cried out for me in the middle of the night, sounding panicked; I'd seen him angry: Mello was prone to explosive fits of rage, which, more often than not, ended up with something broken. I could understand those. They were extreme, yes, but they were _Mello. _I even found some sort of strange comfort in his outbursts. It meant he was alive and well. But this…never before had I seen him so completely broken, his eyes unfocused, not really seeing anything. This lack of expression, this quiet Mello…it was so _wrong. _He wasn't alive, he wasn't well, he wasn't Mello.

His blood continued to drip out of him onto the white carpet, leaving a deep red stain. I stood up, laying him down carefully on the floor. I gathered up his clothes, tossed them aside, and pulled a blanket off my bed. I wrapped him up in it, gathering him into my arms again.

"_I'm sorry I hit you."_

"Mello," I whined. "I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry. I should've never let you go on your own. I'm sorry. I'm sorry."

I felt his hand touch my face. Gently, he brushed my hair out of my eyes, giving me a small, painful smile.

"…It's not your fault," he said. "I was stupid…and I hit Near. I guess…this is what I get." He leaned in and laid a kiss on the corner of my mouth before falling back into my arms. He began to cry again, shaking hard. "…Are we still friends?" He asked. I could feel the desperate tone in his voice.

Tears stung at my eyes, burning as they fell down my face.

"Of course we are, Mel!" I let more offense into my voice than I probably should have. "Why wouldn't I be?"

Mello's smile widened.

"You're my best friend, Matt."

"…Me too, Mels" I replied, trying my best not to cry anymore. I stroked his hair softly as he continued to cry and slowly fell asleep in my arms. The room was quiet, save for the little sobs that escaped me. I just held him and held him, for as long as I could, for however long I did.

I didn't really understand what had just happened, having only the faintest grasp of sex and intimacy. But I knew that it was painful. This was…

I couldn't bring my six-year-old self to say 'rape.'

Despite that, though, I felt content with Mello in my arms.

A siren droned on outside. My moment of peace was cut short as paramedics pulled him away from me and loaded him onto a stretcher.

I don't know why I cried. I don't know why I screamed. It felt like they were tearing out a part of my soul as they took Mello away from me. Fear returned.

And I screamed.

**~Beyond~**

Ryuuk came again while I was changing into my pajamas.

My mind wandered to the events of today.

Mello had been taken away in an ambulance.

Y was taken away in a police car.

Nobody would tell us 'children' what happened, but judging by some of the teenager's horrified expressions, they knew.

And so did I.

It made me angry. If someone attacked, possibly _raped, _another person, didn't we have a right to know? What was the point of keeping us in the dark? We were geniuses anyway. There was a reason they put us into insanely difficult classes, only prepared us for a world of art or criminal justice- we were going to be those people one day, the ones who took Y away.

I felt something tapping on my shoulder, and heard that laughter that I'd heard once before.

I do not, I repeat, do _not _like to be sneaked up on. I _especially _do not like to be sneaked up on when I am stark naked.

I squeaked and fell onto my bed, throwing my sheets over myself. Ryuuk simply laughed at me.

"Trust me kid, you ain't got nothing that I haven't seen before," he chuckled. Was that supposed to assuage me? I shuddered at the thought.

"Cold comfort," I muttered. "Could you have come at a worse time?"

"Hey, you're the one who said I could come back whenever I wanted."

"I also said not to scare me! And I'm kind of naked here!"

Ryuuk responded by picking my underwear off the floor and flinging them at me. I growled, struggling to put them on under the covers.

"Why are you here?" I asked.

"I got bored. All there is to do at home is gamble and stare into space. It's very dull."

I was just a bit uncomfortable walking past Ryuuk in my underwear, but I managed to get to my pajamas without becoming too embarrassed.

Then it hit me.

"Ryuuk," I said, a devilish smile creeping over my face. "The most interesting idea just popped into my head."

"What?" he asked.

I felt my blood pump. I was getting excited, and I knew it.

"I want you to take me to the Shinigami Realm. I want to see it with my own two eyes."

Ryuuk paused, a confused look on his face. It would be cute, if he didn't look like such a monster.

"Can I do that?" he asked.

"I don't know, you tell me! You're the Shinigami, don't you know the rules?"

"Well…other Shinigami bring back animals sometimes, but I've never heard of bringing a human along."

I scowled.

"Well, I don't see why it _should _be any different," I pouted. "After all, what is a human but a particularly advanced species of animal?"

Then, I felt myself become happy again.

"Wait here."

I went down to the kitchen and retrieved three of the bags of apples that sat on the kitchen counter and went back to my room. I could tell that Ryuuk was happy to see them.

"Will you take me now?" I asked.

"Uh…sure?"

"Good. It's late, so I'm not too concerned about being caught. So what do we do?"

"C'mon. Let's go outside."

In a few minutes, we stood outside, the cool night air blowing across my face.

Ryuuk instructed me to get on his back and hold on tight.

"Trust me, kid, you don't wanna let go."

I closed my eyes. I _really _didn't want to see where we were going. I trembled a little, but I made myself be brave.

My stomach lurched as we shot into the air. It was almost like being in an airplane. The wind stung my face, bitter cold cutting through my clothes.

Then, a sickening feeling of falling…

"…You can get off now, kid."

I let go, my bare feet hitting solid ground.

The world around me was dark, and bleak. The landscape looked dead. Dead plants, skeletons…everything…dead…

"Hey, Ryuuk, where've ya been?"

"Yeah, we've been- wait a minute. What's with the _human?"_

I drew myself up to my full height as two more Shinigami approached me. I swallowed hard.

"Hey, where's his name?"

"Yeah, he doesn't have a name!"

They were monstrous. Terrifying. I wanted nothing more than to run away screaming.

_I mustn't show fear, _I told myself. _I mustn't show fear. I __**must not**__ show fear._

My mother hadn't been afraid, so why should I be? If she didn't see any threat, then why should I? I needed to get a hold of myself. I took a deep breath.

And looked one of them straight in the eye.

"I have a name!" I shouted, cutting through their chatter. "My name is Rue. Rue Ryuuzaki."

They fell silent.

"Why does this kid have the same name as Rue?"

"Well," Ryuuk said, grinning, "This is Rue's kid."

"No way. No kidding? Ryuuk, is this a joke?"

"Nope. This is Rue's kid. That's why you can't see his name, and that's why he can see us."

"Whoa. Hey, Deridovely, go get the others. This is pretty cool!"

"Aw, do I have to?"

"Just do it, lazy ass."

I bit back a laugh.

"Fine," the one called Deridovely grumbled. "Hey, Ryuuk, why don't ya show that kid to Armonia Justin? He should be interested."

"Don't boss me around!"

"I'd also be very interested to meet him," I told him, grinning.

**~Rem~**

"Hey, are you two still watching the human world?"

Jealous didn't take his eyes off the portal to the human world. I turned to face Deridovley, getting irritated.

"Why is it any concern of yours?" I asked.

"Because Ryuuk brought an actual human _right here_. C'mon, you've got to see it!"

We followed him. I had to admit, the idea of seeing a human in person piqued my interest. Jealous seemed the most excited. His happy chatter was almost enough to make me smile.

He was small- much smaller than any of us Shinigami. He made himself seem even smaller by drawing into himself, arms in front of him, as if to create a fragile barrier between himself and the rest of us.

Armonia Justin stared at him for a long time, studying him carefully.

"Yes, he is Rue's son," he said, after what seemed like ages.

Jealous's face lit up. Rue had been a good friend of his, so I suppose it was only natural he would be happy to meet his child.

"Isn't there a law that says we can't go screwing around with mortals?" Gukku asked. "Or…screwing mortals?" He snorted.

"Why do you think Rue is dead?" Armonia Justin replied. "Don't be an idiot."

"I wanna touch it!" Sidoh shouted.

The boy yelped as Sidoh's hand made contact with his skin.

"Y-you're c-cold!"

"Hey, I wanna touch it, too!"

"Me too!"

Everybody seemed eager to see the 'pet' human that Ryuuk had brought. He closed his eyes and began to shake as they crowded around him.

"Hey, give him some space," Jealous said, in a stern tone of voice that was completely unlike him. "You're scaring him!"

"No, it's okay," the boy said, standing tall and forcing his eyes open. "I don't mind."

He flashed us a smile that made me distrust him at once. It didn't reach his eyes- there was not an ounce of happiness in it; it merely showed teeth.

Each Shinigami took their turn touching him, running fingers through soft black hair. The boy's breathing slowed. He closed his eyes again, leaning into their touches. As if he found some strange comfort in this strange impromptu ritual.

"C'mon, Rem, check it out. This kid's skin is really soft. It's like nothing I've ever felt before!" Midra said in awe.

I relented, taking the child's face in my hands.

His skin was soft, just like they had said. It was also warm- much warmer than anything I had ever felt. He looked as if he was made of porcelain. Like he would break if we were not careful. In contrast to the wicked grin he had given earlier, he looked peaceful, and fragile.

I felt his hand close around my wrist and pull me away.

"I find it odd," he said, "That I feel more comfortable around you than with any human being I've ever met. I feel nice…I usually hate it when people touch me, but…it's rather comforting. Isn't it strange that I would feel better here than in my own world?"

He seemed to be talking more to himself than to any of us.

"What are your names?" he asked, coming back to himself and flashing that lying smile again. "Mine is Rue."

Silence.

"What's wrong? Aren't you allowed to tell me your names?"

They finally started talking, seeming surprised by the boy's sudden boldness.

"Midra."

"Gukku."

"Deridovely."

"Sidoh."

"Calikarcha."

"Zellogi."

His eyes rested on me.

"And you?"

"…Rem."

"Hmm. I think I like your name the best. It's pretty."

I tried by best to ignore his strategic flattery.

"And you?"

"…Um, my name is Jealous."

This name seemed to give the child pause.

"…Jealous? That is an interesting name…why were you given it?"

"I don't know. We don't choose our names."

"'Cept for Justin over there," Zellogi muttered.

"_Armonia _Justin to _you."_

The boy laughed, seeming to be enjoying himself.

"Ryuuk, where did you find this kid?"

"I dunno. Some kind of school."

"Aren't human women supposed to look after their brats?"

The child's face fell. He pulled a photograph out of his pocket.

"This is her," he said, his voice hushed and reverent. "My mother. She was murdered when I was about five years old."

A sudden pang of pity mingled with my distrust.

**~Jealous~**

We all gathered around him as he continued to talk.

"On my birthday, a man broke into our house. He stabbed my mother to death. I watched her bleed out right in front of me. Then, he came at me and tried to kill me. He stabbed my shoulder," he paused, lowering his shirt to reveal the deep scar, "and cut my throat and my cheek," he showed the shallow scars there, "before I could get the knife away from him." 

Everybody listened. Never before had their attention been so thoroughly captured. He was good with using his words.

"I stabbed him seven times. I made sure to pierce his lungs so he wouldn't be able to scream. I didn't want to hear his voice. By the time I realized what I had done, I was screaming as well. I very seriously considered killing myself, but police came and saved me before I could do it."

I felt bad for him. I saw the beginnings of tears forming in his eyes. I had the strangest urge to reach forward and wipe them away.

"But it's okay now," he said brightly, his whole being suddenly lighting up. "Because now I have someone else that I love. And I love him more than anything else in the world."

Him?

Wasn't that considered abnormal in the human world?

…But it didn't matter. Nobody could really explain love. If you could, then that meant that I couldn't love Misa…

Besides, whoever this person was, he was clearly dear to this boy's heart.

He lingered for hours, watching us play cards. I found it strange that he seemed so enraptured by our little games. Finally, he fell asleep, leaning against Rem, who seemed too kind to move and let him fall.

Ryuuk took him back, returning with three large bags of apples.

"That's how the kid got you to bring it here?" Gukku asked.

"He. Not it," Rem corrected.

"Yeah. What of it? Apples from the human world are worth the trip on their own."

I went back to watching the human world, a strange feeling in the pit of my stomach.

"Rem, what do you think of Rue's son?" I asked.

"He is an unusual child," she said.

"Yeah, he is, isn't he?" I agreed.

"I don't trust him. His eyes and face... the way he looked at us. The boy is off. He..._" _Rem trailed off, unable to correctly complete her sentence.

"I suppose…"

**~O~**

**B/N: Review little lovelies! Nobody reviewed the last chapter :s It makes us sad:\**


	17. Chapter 17

Hi, guys :D I love you all for sticking with me this far :3

Anyway, please check out my new website (beyondsfanfiction . webs. com) for updates and to suggest plotlines.

_I am drifting off to somewhere  
>Anywhere sounds good to me<br>But as I fade into darkness  
>Something's happening to me<br>Slipping, failing, demon's calling  
>Spiders crawling, dogs are mauling<br>Walls are closing, tumor growing  
>Reaper's sewing, blood is flowing<br>Wake up screaming  
>As I lay my head back down<br>Soaked and shaking, trembling  
>Please just let me slip into a<br>Good night's rest  
>Vision failing, broken railing<br>Tumbling off the wall you're scaling  
>Skin is peeling, body stealing<br>Total loss of any feeling_

_Guilty pleasure, daedly weather_ _  
>Terrified to be together<br>Snakes are hissing, kid went missing  
>Crying out but no one's listening <em>

**_-_**_Annihilator**, The Nightmare Factory**_

**~Near~**

The Mello that came back from the hospital was not the same Mello I had always known. He came into the classroom silent as the grave, eyes darting around the room frantically, glancing over his shoulder every couple of seconds.  
>Matt jumped from his seat in excitement, running over and capturing him in a hug. Mello tensed up and automatically forced him away, mumbling something along the lines of 'don't touch me.' He ran to the desk in the far back of the room, lowering his head as if to not be seen. I bit my lip to hold back my overwhelming desire to go to him. To comfort him. To do <em>something. <em>  
>Mello looked so broken.<br>It was so wrong. Mello had been so full of life. So vibrant. So completely unlike me. It was the saddest sight in the world to see him so distraught. It just didn't seem fair.  
>Mello tore out a page of his notebook, scribbling on it furiously before folding it up several times and tossing it onto my desk. He glared at me, his eyes injected with liquid nitrogen.<br>I unfolded the paper. Inside were written a few simple words in Mello's messy handwriting:  
><em>Stop staring at me, cunt.<br>_I had no idea what a cunt was at the time. But I did stop staring at Mello after that.  
>I fingered the bruise on my cheek from where Mello had hit me a few days ago, before everything happened. Despite everything, I was really starting to miss the old Mello. The one who insisted on doing things his way and strutted around as if he owned the world, dragging an unwilling Matt on his arm.<p>

The bell rang, signaling the break before our next class. I didn't go outside like some of the other children did- I preferred going out on the playground at night, when nobody else was there, because I was far too shy and socially awkward to do anything with other people.

Mello simply put his head on his desk and stared blankly at the wall. Matt vainly tried to get him to go outside as well.

"C'mon, Mel, you know how much you love soccer. The others will be upset if you don't get out there and play!"

Mello gave no reply. Matt eventually gave up his efforts and sat down to play his Gameboy.

Shyness didn't suit Mello at all.

Neither did tears. Those things were more suited to my kind than a beautiful soul like Mello. He was too full of life for such trivial things as crying.

As cliché as it sounds, I'd been admiring Mello from a distance for quite some time now. I knew how he normally acted, and I wanted it back. The arrogance, the temper tantrums…everything.

I wanted Mello back.

I wanted him to smile again.

**~Matt~**

Mello hadn't let me touch him since he'd gotten back from the hospital. It was almost funny, because _I _used to be the one who shunned contact, who shied away from intimacy. Mello was the one who grabbed me by the hand and showed me a better world. Now…he wouldn't so much as look at me.

I didn't think that I'd done anything wrong. So why was Mello acting like this? Did I say something? Did I do something?

Why wouldn't he _talk _to me?

That night, he refused to sleep in my bed or even hug me goodnight. That was something that had become so routine to us by now that it threw me for a loop. And…well, I won't pretend I wasn't angry.

"If you just wanna live the rest of your life without me, then just tell me, Mel!" I shouted; my hands curled into little fists of childish anger. "If you want me to get lost, then just tell me to get lost!"

"Matt, I don't-"

"You haven't said anything to me all day! All you've been doing is sulking and being alone! Well, if you wanna be alone so bad, then I'll just leave!"

I might as well have slapped Mello in the face. He tried to speak, but I had already stormed out of the room.

I didn't like the outdoors. It was dirty and dangerous; too easy for somebody to get hurt. But at the moment, I needed to clear my head.

On the playground, Near was on the swing set, trying to get as high as he could go. I walked over and sat down on the swing beside him.

"Why are you out here?" I asked him.

Near scraped his feet against the ground to slow, wincing a bit as he did so.

"I like being out here alone. Normally I would be inside by now, but…it's nice out here."

I made a small noise of acknowledgment.

"Why are you out here, Matt?"

I shrugged.

"Mello's…being mean right now. I just wanted to be alone."

We sat there in silence for a while, just he and I. It seemed like hours before one of us spoke again.

"Normally Beyond would be out here right now," Near admitted. "That's why I'd go inside. But he's not here tonight."

"Where is he?"

"I don't know."

A couple fallen leaves blew past, the autumn chill biting through our pajamas.

"…By the way, I'm sorry we missed your birthday last August, Near," I said offhandedly.

"It's nothing. It's just a birthday, after all."

Near had turned five years old last month. I would be turning six in January. It was hard to believe we were so young when I, at least, felt so ancient.

Near sighed.

"I'm going to bed," Near said, standing up. "Goodnight."

"G'night."

"Matt?"

I looked up. Near gave me a little smile.

"I'm glad we could talk."

Despite myself, I smiled back.

**~Mello~**

Everything seemed to scare me lately. Even something as trivial as the darkness that filled the room seemed to crush me, filling me with fear.

I wrapped my blanket tighter around myself, quaking with fear more than cold.

Now I'd been stupid, and Matt had abandoned me. I deserved it for being so stupid. Was I really that lousy of a friend?

I sniffled and wiped the tears away with the back of my pajama sleeve. I laid down and focused on trying to fall asleep.

…Then, there was fear. Burning, all consuming fear. I didn't even know what I was afraid of; all I knew was that I was scared. I had to get away. And yet, there really wasn't anything to run away from.

I came around to Matt's yelling voice.

"Mel! Wake up, Mel! This isn't _funny_ anymore!"

His tone was desperate, searching, begging. I focused my eyes, and his face came into view.

Tears glistened on his long lashes, creating wet tracks down his cheeks. His face was flushed from screaming, tiredness painting dark rings underneath his eyes.

Once I was fully conscious, Matt seemed to relax.

"You wouldn't stop screaming, Mel," Matt said. "Are you okay?"

I scowled at him.

"Yeah. I'm just fine."

"No, I would say that you are most certainly _not _fine."

I turned my head to look at L. he surveyed me with that all knowing expression, concern knitting his brow together. My scowl deepened.

"Why'd you bring _him _here?" I demanded.

_Please, I don't want L to see me like this. I don't want him to think I'm weak. I don't want him to think I'm just a scared little baby._

"…Sorry, Mel. He came in when he heard you screaming. We tried to wake you up for about twenty minutes. Do you remember anything?"

"…No," I admitted. That much, at least, was true.

"It's called a night terror," L said matter-of-factly. "They're not uncommon in small children."

"A what now?" Matt asked.

"A night terror. It's caused by a misfiring of chemicals and impulses in the brain. They usually have no lasting ill effects, as far as I can remember."

"Then why do you say I'm not fine?" I demanded.

"It's not the night terror I'm worried about. You talk in your sleep, Mello. I…I know what happened between you and your father."

My stomach sank.

"…Watari told me about what Yorik did," he continued, anger lighting up his eyes. "It wasn't right, what happened. Nobody deserves to be abused."

"Who cares?" I snapped. "It's over now, anyways."

"No, actually, it isn't," L replied, straightening up from his slouching posture momentarily before drooping back down again.

L always looked as if he had the weight of the world draped across his shoulders.

"You two are aware of what Post Traumatic Stress Disorder is, correct?"

"I thought that only happened when people went to war," Matt said.

"Not entirely true." L flicked the light on. I blinked in the sudden brightness. "It can occur in anyone who has suffered through a traumatic experience. Rape is one of the most common." He shifted nervously, fingers fidgeting with the collar of his shirt.

"The symptoms of post-traumatic stress include flashbacks, recurring nightmares, and a desire to prevent the incident from every happening again. You both exhibited all of those signs when you were first brought to Wammy's House."

It was my turn to furrow my brow.

"What does that matter?" I demanded.

"The difference is that Matt recovered. You, on the other hand, never really did. And this incident has worsened your condition."

"I never-"

"You refuse to have any contact with the grown men at Wammy's House. I noticed how you actively avoid the male teachers and counselors. At first Watari wouldn't tell me why. I was only able to figure it out recently, when Watari told me about what happened a few days ago. Lately, I noticed you have been avoiding the teenage boys as well."

I felt myself becoming angry, in the most part because L was _right. _I was terrified of them. L was the exception, because I admired him so much. But the rest of them…they scared me. L was right when he said I was afraid.

I was also mad at L for calling me out on my fears. For making me face what happened. I had told myself that as long as I denied it, it didn't happen. It didn't happen.

But it did.

And now L was making me admit that.

"Why does it matter that I was…raped?" The last word came out in a whisper.

L took a deep breath, his eyes wandering around the room. For that moment, he looked like the fourteen, almost fifteen, year old boy that he was.

"Rape is a very severe crime. Often, the victim is damaged beyond any hope of repair. It is a degrading thing, more about control and humiliation than it is about sex."

"Funny. It didn't feel that way when some guy blew a load up my ass," I snickered, making L and Matt cringe.

"…I see you're not willing to talk about it yet. But if you ever want to, come find me."

L walked out of the room, casting a concerned glance over his shoulder before clicking the door shut.

That night, for the first night since Matt came to Wammy's House, I slept in my bed alone. I remembered every single detail of my nightmare after that. Of people holding me down and hurting me, violating me again. It hurt so badly, but I just couldn't bring myself to wake up.

I think it was probably the worst night of my life.

This was a depressing chapter to write. Fortunately, next chapter contains much fluff :D For now, please leave a review and check out my website :D


	18. Life

A special thanks to the reviewer known as 'L Change the World' for taking the time to review every single chapter of this story and _The Story of L. _This one's for you, hon ;)

This chapter is an event that happened in _The Story of L, _but from the children's perspective. Enjoy :)

Anyway, please review :) Even a few words is better than nothing :)

**_So far Away_****_  
>Doesn't anybody stay in one place anymore?<br>It would be so fine to see your face at my door  
>Doesn't help to know that you're just time away<br>Long ago I reached for you, and there you stood  
>Holding you again could only do me good<br>How I wish I could, but you're so far away_**

One more song about moving along the highway  
>Can't say much of anything that's new<br>If I could only work this life out my way  
>I'd rather spend it being close to you<br>But you're so far away  
>Doesn't anybody stay in one place anymore?<br>It would be so fine to see your face at my door  
>Doesn't help to know you're so far away<br>Yeah, you're so far away

**_-Carol King, _**_So Far Away_

**~Beyond~**

Autumn came early, bringing with her a bitter chill and cloudy days. A certain melancholy settled over Wammy's House as the days grew ever shorter, the cold stripping trees of all their leaves.

At first, the fiery colors of the trees brought a cheerful feeling with them. However, once all the leaves had fallen, everything merely looked…dead.

It was only late September, but the world had already died.

It made me distinctly uneasy to be surrounded constantly by death and decay. It wasn't comforting to me the same way the Shinigami realm was. It was unnatural.

I distracted myself by observing the people around me, noticing that their attitudes toward each other grew colder as the weather followed suit. I couldn't help but smile to myself- like a flock of sheep, following their master. Always relying on someone or some_thing _else to do their thinking for them. Following the crowd without bothering to think for themselves.

I sighed and kicked at a pile of dried up, colorless leaves.

Lately, my dreams about L had become more frequent, creeping into my waking moments and preventing my focus. And still, I had to ask myself why. I couldn't think of any reason why I should want him in _that _way. But I did.

I wanted him. Beside me.

On top of me.

Inside me.

I wanted him everywhere.

He had become all I could think about. All I wanted. The only problem- he didn't want me back.

_No matter what you do, he will never want you. Not in **that **way. Stop being a fool._

I stared up at the sky, at the birds flying overhead, fleeing from the cold. I wanted nothing more than to join them, to fly away with L in my arms. To flee from the cold and the pain.

"BB?"

I jumped, then turned to glare at the person who dared to interrupt my fantasy. Lynda shrunk in on herself.

"L's reading a story. He wanted to know if you were coming."

I took a deep breath and relaxed. I hated storytelling. I hated picture books and childish things. But…L would be there. I _had _to go.

"I'll be there in a second."

**~Matt~**

I bounced up and down in my spot on the floor, my eyes fixed on L. It had been forever since he'd read to us.

But then my eyes fell on Mello. He seemed to be trying to make himself invisible. His face was dark with anger, his entire body tensed like a frightened animal. His eyes darted around the room, watching for anything that might hurt him.

He was still angry about that, wasn't he…

_"Hey, Mello?"_

_"What?"_

_Mello glared at the new arrivals. They stood in the doorway of our room. Xavier and Zane. X and Z._

_I paused my game and set it down, wondering why they were here._

_The two fidgeted nervously, seeming unsure of what to do with their hands._

_"…We heard about what Y did. Look, man, we're really sorry-"_

_"Shut the **fuck **up."_

_Mello was furious. He trembled with anger and frustration. Zane and Xavier drew back in shock._

_"Dude, we're sorry," Xavier said._

_"Riiiight." Mello's voice dripped sarcasm. "You wanna make it up to me? Well, maybe you can bring my family back to life. Or give me a father who gives a damn! Or, ooh, I know! You can go back in time and **un-rape **me!"_

_Mello turned his back to the two of them, refusing to acknowledge them any longer. Eventually, they left, the door clicking shut behind them._

I found myself unable to focus on the story, instead choosing to keep a close watch on Mello. His anger melted away as he relaxed a bit. He even smiled a bit as L got to a particularly interesting part of the story.

What happened next went by so fast that I scarcely remember it. there a shattering sound as the stained glass window came crashing down. L's eyes went wide in an expression of shocked pain as he gave a sharp gasp.

I didn't know what was going on until I saw the dark red stain spreading across L's white shirt, watching in horror as he slumped over in the red velvet armchair.

As everyone realized what happened, screaming started. Watari and Roger ran into the room, panicking and shouting.

L had been shot. L had been _shot._

_What was the Hell just happened? _was the only thought that went through my mind.

I lost track of Mello in the uproar of frightened children.

"Mello!" I shouted. "Mello! Where are you?"

I found him beside L's unconscious body, hands and clothing stained with his blood.

The moment I touched his shoulder, he threw his arms around me and hugged me tight.

I froze up. It had been days since Mello had even touched me. But now he was holding me, sobbing into my chest like I was the only person in the world. He smelled like blood and tears and soap and chocolate.

L…

L!

I'd almost forgotten him!

The blood on L's shirt had stained the whole thing red. His breathing was so faint and shallow that it almost wasn't there. For the third time in my life, I heard the droning of sirens in the background. Paramedics rushed into the room, surrounding L in an effort to keep him alive.

**~Mello~**

Everything was so surreal and detached that it might have been a dream. The bleeding, the sirens…it all seemed unreal somehow.

I found myself in Matt's arms before I knew what I was doing.

I cried.

I couldn't believe how many tears my body could hold.

Matt tightened his grip around me. I clung to him and bawled, not caring who was looking, or who saw. I no longer cared about appearing weak- I only wanted comfort.

"I-I-is L g-gonna d-die?" I hiccupped.

"…L's tough," Matt tried to reassure me. "He won't die so easily."

"B-but…"

My heart pounded in my chest, my head spinning. I felt as if I might be sick.

_Mother…Brother…_

"Th-this is how my family died! How are you so sure that L won't die, too?"

Matt's body tensed up. He lifted my head up and made me look him in the eyes. Stripped of the usual barrier of his goggles or the dark of our bedroom, I could get a better look at his bright green eyes than I ever had before. They had such a serious look to them. Such determination and certainty.

"No matter what happens, I'll always be here for you. Whether or not you want me, I'll always be here for when you_ need_ me. and as long as I'm here, I'll comfort you."

I broke down and let out a scream. It was all that I could do.


	19. Stand

Here it is- The very last chapter of _The Wammy's House Boys. _It will be continued in _The Wammy's House Boys Part II- God's Lost Lambs. _Thank you to all who read and reviewed, and please read part two :D

* * *

><p>Oh, why you look so sad? The tears are in your eyes<br>Come on and come to me now  
>But don't, be ashamed to cry, let me see you through<br>'Cause I've been in the dark side too  
>When the night falls on you, and you don't know what to do<br>Nothing you confess, could make me love you less

1-ll stand by you, I'll stand by you  
>Won't let nobody hurt you, I'll stand by you<p>

So, if you're mad, get mad, don't hold it all inside  
>Come on and talk to me now<br>Hey, what you got to hide? I get angry too  
>Well, I'm a lot like you<br>When you're standing  
>At the crossroads, but don't know, which path to choose<br>Let me come along, 'cause even if you're wrong

Take me in to, your darkest hour  
>And I'll never desert you, I'll stand by you<p>

And when, when the night falls on you, baby  
>You're feeling all alone, you won't be on your own<p>

_The Pretenders- Stand by You_

**~Mello~**

Anger consumed my every waking thought. It wasn't even merely an 'I'm so pissed off, I could scream' kind of anger. It was the kind that made you want to rip somebody's fucking eyes out, make them scream and make them suffer. Not anybody in particular- anyone would do to satisfy this burning, all-consuming hatred.

I'd felt anger before. I'd been furious, I'd thrown temper tantrums- I'm sure Roger was already sick of me and my violent outbursts. But it had never been like this- this was a monster eating away at my hear. Destroying everything I once was, until only anger remained.

Matt had watched my progression from sadness to rage, watching me from his bed with a worried expression, paying no attention to his game, afraid to interfere and turn my anger against him.

(The world of children was rough. Children always feel things in purer forms than adults, and the feelings linger…for so much longer.)

I trembled with fury, hot angry tears pouring down my face. I dug my nails into my arms, staring angrily at my blanket as I sat there in my anger. (Passively burning. My own personal Hell.)

"…Mel?"

My gaze shot up and locked on his. Matt pulled back nervously.

"…Why do you think they did it?" he asked. "…Attack L, I mean."

My eyes trailed back down to the gap between my crossed legs.

"…I don't know," I admitted. "It just makes me so mad…"

Matt put his hands over mine, giving me a small smile as a peace offering. I tensed up at the contact, but made no effort to push him away. I simply stared as our fingers tangled together.

Matt's hands were so rough, so calloused, despite being so young. I looked at the hundreds of tiny scars that covered the small surface, the ragged edges of his chewed-off fingernails, a testament to a lifetime of neglect and fear.

(Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. Reactive Attachment Disorder. Histrionic Personality Disorder. So many complicated terms for what we really were- scared, frightened, lonely.)

Then, I saw that huge, raw, ugly scar. The knife wound. The worst of them all. It was a miracle he could still use his hand at all, really, with how badly it had been mangled.

_I glanced down at the bandages, soaked with blood that Matt had wrapped tightly around his hands._

_"Hey," I said, my tongue stumbling clumsily over an unfamiliar language. "What's…that over…your hand?"_

_Matt looked down before looking away, shame turning his face red._

_"It's…it's no…nothing."_

_(Matt was so shy back then…)_

"Whoever did that to L," Matt said, "Is gonna pay for it. You just wait and see. L's gonna be fine…he'll be fine, alright?

I could tell that Matt didn't quite believe his own words.

**~Matt~**

Mello's hands were so soft.

We held hands all the time (Or, at least we did, before that…incident that left Mello unwilling to touch anyone.) But never before had I noticed just how soft his hands really were. So smooth, like a baby's skin. It was painfully obvious that he'd never been digging through the garbage before, or been shoved onto the sidewalk one too many times.

(I almost envied him. Then, I remembered just what he _had _gone through, and I felt that my life paled in comparison. At the very least, I had that one shard of my shattered innocence left.)

We stayed silent for a long time, our fingers tangled together. My hand rough and calloused, his hand smooth and perfect... My hand scarred, his hand flawless. My hand, rough and ugly; his - long fingered and delicate.

Our hands were so different, and yet our fingers fit together perfectly.

**~Near~**

_There are no faces on any of the pictures. Not a single one._

_The floorboards creak under my feet as I travel down the hallways, to that door I saw the last time. Without fail, every single picture had the faces cut out. It was uncanny. Unnatural._

_I reached for the door, turned the knob, and-_

I always wondered why I woke with a jolt whenever I had that particular dream. Why I was covered in sweat and crying.

I got out of bed and was immediately hit by a wave of vertigo.

_(Tip, sway, I'll be sick…)_

I stumbled down the hallway and to the bathroom to splash cold water on my face. The moment I got there, though, I found myself on the ground, retching and moaning, my hands pressed against the cold tile.

(Sick with worry. Sick with fear. One or the other…

I felt a hand on my back. I jolted and jerked my head around, but it was only Watari.

"You aren't feeling well?"

I shook my head, not opening my mouth or saying a word.

"Here."

Watari helped me up and lead me back to my room, conveniently ignoring the acrid mess I left on the floor.

"It's alright. I'm not feeling too well, either."

The warmth of my bed and blankets lulled me into a state of warm sleepiness, wrapping me in security.

"You're running a fever," Watari said matter-of-factly, his rough, aged hand resting on my forehead. "I'll have you excused from classes tomorrow."

The simple gestures…the reassuring words…

This time, when sleep washed over me, pulling me under its inky depths, I dreamt of sunny fields, starry skies…and L's peaceful smile.


End file.
